Rise Above the Natural
by MrDaMan
Virgil R. Hall II (Randy)

There is something in the clouds of thought born upon the
wings of angels. The weight of time that is the density of
life, ruffling the feathers arched and laboring, spiraling in
the currents and gravity of soul. Lifting questions of
meaning from the face of existence Why am I?

Of Gods and Devils, of angels and demons. The
conceptual grace of heaven and the insistent duality of pain
in hell. This war upon sentience and the philosophical seed,
giving birth and death to vast universes of incomprehension
spanning novas and neutrons A reaching conceptuality.

Children of nature, bastards of time, disciplined by
pleasure and pain. Crying woefully, laughing hysterically
and waging peace against the ever present war of mortality.
Spirits of liquid star dust run amok, swirling sentience
nearing a boiling point in their own minds a la natural.

Lifes gasp, a breath inhaling time and excreting dust,
fingers grasping sand and building spiritual beaches for
footprints washed away by oceans of nothingness. All
alone in infinite black surrounded by sparks of infinite
light, the tears of humanity beckon, shining brilliant blue.
To rise above the natural.

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