Angelic stone

Written by: Paul Knight-Kirby

I feel its existence though I cannot see
It’s not angelic it’s more the Jesus the sun covered by clouds, inciting me
It has an odd taste, bitter but sweet completely new and unique 
I am going into a trance I am losing my inhibitions to speak 
I am spinning and spinning in a whirlpool of mystery 
Dazzling in the virginity of this epiphany 
My eyes are welded by the awe of the summoning spectacle 
This lustful and hasty trophy of acknowledgement 
Naked and hollow arousing astonishment 
It’s ecstasy, the pure kind, a divine drug I cannot take this 
It’s beyond too much the frolics of light caressing my eyes 
Singeing every molecule of my sight
 Drowning me in a mind-bending façade the canny oxymoronic barge 
I understand now the limits of my mind, and this cat will not die 
I see the multitudes of witnesses being mocked in padded rooms 
Solicited because of their strokes of the beams, the topless ceilings the rainbow extended coloured streams 
And the Jacob repeated dreams,now brought modern into the age of the misunderstood and forgotten 
The answer on continual repeat growing louder and more attuned than the last man-harvested heap.
Which generation will reap the benevolent shimmering platform of social peace? 
Political abolishment human atonement all the goods of the good wave upon wave 
What achievements would we conjure from the blissful return of nature 
The garden of Eden broken free depleting the concrete, wild and freaky 
Such wondrous plants, and elegant trees majestic and growing in fruitful bliss 
Baby laughing in innocent smelt, the little cub the angelic belt of protection 
No need for added affection in this world of absolute perfection. 
All in order, all in tune I understand the birds the bending grass the mumbling mute 
All is ready hurrah by the hushed breaking sounded flute