Funky Paradise

I know I will die.

Tomorrow bears a scythe!

When the storm comes the Moon rises against a terrifying Night as Dawn dissipates from our memories.

When the last of the Seraphs have fallen from God's vengeance only to be consumed by Zealots, Mad-men and religious fanatics, one discovers life is not about "Life"! Life ceased to be the very moment we were taken from our Mother's womb. We breathe the air. We walk the streets conforming to the vices and virtues of Social Humanity making friends, losing lovers and crying in the ever deepening blue of twilight.

Yet we are haunted by a "good-bye" built on an architecture of dreams. Stone by brittle stone have fallen on the heads of the wise and the ignorant alike.

The mourning burns like the Sun in the minds of the enlightened!

Salvation has taken its leave

and our stones are but dust!