I’m waiting to arrive at the garden where old souls gather,
Seduced by the tranquillity of non being in the presence of each other,
Bound by lattices that have no beginning and no end,
Kissing the hands of my brothers.
The fragrances of our ancestors, perfuming our seats,
Cushioning the walls, softening the floors, flower beds for souls,
Jewel crusted trees that feed off the light of those present and past,
That wait for the future of children hearts.
Where is that ground I seek, where my son will strike it with his sword,
Where he will beam light to the heavens and call on angels,
Seventy thousand angels carrying a single raindrop,
To wash away all our insecurities, our disbelief, and bring tranquil songs of birds.
Take me there,
If you dare,
If you care,
Come and stare.
Marvel at geometry,
Marvel at tranquillity,
Marvel at eternity,
Marvel at divinity.
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