A harrowing drive on the Schuylkill Expressway

A harrowing drive on the Schuylkill Expressway (route 76) both heading into (and a small number of hours later exiting) center city Philadelphia to Schwenksville on May 19th, 2024. Yours truly (a doodling Yankee), and the missus went to town, NOT riding on a pony, NOR did I stick a feather in my cap, but we walked at a brisk pace unwittingly set by our eldest daughter from her three bed apartment at 405 south 22nd street to a museum housing an awesome breathtaking eye opening place called The Magic Garden located at 1020 South Street, Philadelphia, PA 19147. Herewith follows a blurb copied/pasted courtesy Google in general and Wikipedia in particular. Philadelphia's Magic Gardens is a non-profit organization, folk art environment, and gallery space on South Street in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. To date, it is the largest work created by mosaic artist Isaiah Zagar. The Magic Gardens spans three city lots, and includes indoor galleries and a large outdoor labyrinth. Initially, we (thyself, the spouse, and averred twenty seven year old heiress to the Harris misfortune). intended to ride SEPTA, but the bus driver quickly pulled away. So trio comprised of the Mister and Missus and their city smart grown daughter, who earned the appellation "star student" for her superb academic performance (quite evident even when she started kindergarten) and voluntarily enrolled in advanced placement after she got promoted to sophomore year at Harriton High School. After our energetic hustling only a short distance (courtesy "rubber express" id est sneakers), the papa bear (me) he experienced relentless dehydration, and struggled with impossible mission to generate saliva, hence dry mouth afflicted hokey pokey man, who brought up the rear. Upon determinedly trekking without complaint circumstances found urgency forcibly tapping into immediately realized heretofore unknown potential emergency reserve whereat solar plexus witnessed hyper boost setting body electric of mine in overdrive increasing heavy huffing and puffing ever so glad to complete rightly striding twelve plus city blocks, whereat pace of mine got perceptibly slower as the end point got nearer, and what an amazing sight to behold! The sprawling conglomeration held together analogous to fortification against invasion of architectural conformity haphazard juxtaposed linkedin naturally poetic/prosaic rhapsodic traditional vaulted xenotime zaniness. Isaiah Zagar, the brainchild American mosaic artist based in Philadelphia notable for his murals, primarily in or around Philadelphia's South Street. After three years in Peru, the Zagars moved to South Philadelphia in 1968 where they opened the Eyes Gallery, a folk art shop on South Street. In December 1968, the Eyes Gallery was the site of Zagar's first mosaic; Zagar mosaiced it as a way to create a folk art environment for the art they were selling. After perusing the sacred structures in relative silence thru these myopic eyes of a skeptic echoing blood, sweat and tears of said artist, which perambulation evinced the Great Tribulation in Christian eschatology a period mentioned by Jesus in the Olivet Discourse as a sign that would occur in the time of the end. At Revelation 7:14, "the Great Tribulation" is used to indicate the period spoken of by Jesus. No blatant religious symbology, yet the invisible hand of divine spirit gently, minutely, and subtly ordained, intruded, experienced, and anointed yours truly challenging, condemning, and curbing profane thoughts subsequently inviting rumination linkedin with inspiration to witness my own slice of palatable spiritual awakening, which served me in good (home) stead, a sexagenarian awash with discombobulation when amidst the beauty of inexplicable fabulous creation, clashing with personal paganistic paradigm. Belief in guardian angels became pronounced when entrusting orienting myself behind the wheel of our 2020 Hyundai Elantra accessing the (oxymoronic named) high speed thoroughfare iterated in initial lines of this poem, cuz bumper to bumper traffic on that late Sunday afternoon found atheistic dogmatism severely put thru the paces, particularly when resigning being sorely tested to drive after twilight (cataracts exacerbate glare), hence hitching a wish to return to Schwenksville without getting into a serious accident or worse, which impromptu wing and a prayer spurred whim to exit at Lincoln Drive, following hairpin twists and turns, which anxiety precipitated increasing need to urinate.