I have come up from underneath the Earth. In a throw of birth pains!
Agonizing. Without injury to my essential identity. Immortal from the start, but unclean because of melancholia.
Still, on the window pain I stand invisible like an intruder in the Mind of those yet unborn. Covered with the dust of shelf life; eager in haste to fly to high heaven with all the weight of conceit!
But the bath of angels cleanse me.
"Oh how! I wait till dawn. Refurbished. Sublime. Purified on the back burner of the old cooker."
Through trails & trails of unending endlessness I turn to the right then left I go. Heeding to no obstacle. Uprooting all hurdles. Subsume to no lustral sporadic incoherence. Pristine like the green of moss.
Baptized in empyrean fire.
Homeward to my God.
Thru a Royal Art I was crafted. From the start all was in me.
