Approaching Hell
A walk a saunter
but
No Paradise Garden this
The wells power a procession
The ghosts of the past
Things come and gone
It is looking back at you
You who have the gift of life
You who have the gift of love
By Gods grace grant me the best of all gifts
The gift of a merciful death
Looking at the void
The open eyed falling
With mouth agape
Our eyes chasing theirs as you drop
A man might have immortal life and wander
For all the generations of man till reaching the edge of doomsday
Let us find harbour to see again with longing the lives of those
Who grow old and die
Of those who die
He who knows our thoughts will he not hear our words
Looking into Hells tunnel
There the horror of ones birth
The beauty seen of ones death
Grasping almost blind sensing
My reaching fingers
A soft acrid smell of electric ozone
Wild pulsating mysterious images indistinct a soft focus
Powerful bass sounds so low
The vibrating thick air giving portent of such power
Crackling a screaming high frequency at limits of hearing
Iridescent light neither hot nor cold
Weightlessness felt a resonance with ones mass
A feeling of being tempered between the Devils finger and thumb
PS Category Hell
Sorry no tick box for Hell
Copyright © Nigel Fox | Year Posted 2017
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