Poetry

---

Behold,
THE COUNTENANCE.
Excruciating;
Filled with vile,
Excruciating pain.

The Pangs,
Of ABYSSMAL SORROW.

Such one, O' SUCH A ONE.
As real, as real as the sweet, Stench...
Of SANGUINE DROPLETS.

O' THE AGONY FELT,
SUCH A ONE FELT,
Through the AGE.

Ages.
No... never was,
Nor ever will be more.
THE AGE..

Of TIME?
Perhaps so...

But oh... what is this?
The AGE of ONE before TIME,
Itself?
A god?
Indefinite excrement!

A god indeed...
What pungent nonsense!
No... wait...
A god does have limitations.

But TIME....
It ceases for none.

Yet still,
SUCH A ONE has been,
Even before... TIME?
Preposterous!

Though,
TIME must have been made...
Created,
By SUCH A ONE....
TIME does not feel.

But,
TIME does stand still.

Some have literally,
Lived through this...
Phenomenon once,
Or the much sought after,
Twice... in a lifespan.

Could a possibility,
Of a potential PERSON be...
I must be insane to ask!

... Could it be,
There may be,
SUCH A ONE,
That... NO!

No... It is...

... Whom, might be...
A little... NO...
But rather,
Astoundingly MORE ,
Than... a god?

SUCH A ONE,
That is,
In entirety,
THE ULTIMATE ALMIGHTY?

...

THE ULTIMATE ALMIGHTY...
Rather known,
Fearsomely simple now,
As....
My MAKER.

A god is a comforting...
Deadly thought.

On the other hand...
Of Authentic Wisdom...

A MAKER...
Is Reality...
Best FEARED.

A.Y. & Schlemiel

---

PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR BELOW LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE