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real eyes, realize. real lies
written rites representing
repentance of serpent bites
distinguishing hate from likes
spiritual maturation on the rise
a full glass overflows half truths
a minute squeeze of small fruit
a little bit of juice on the tongue
of a thirsty vagabond in bondage
of restraints of its own self made
woe in a place where Zion speaks
of libation in midst of floods
yet earth can only yield leftover
blood from wounded ground
still there's beauty in the eye
of sight seeing astral travelers
movements vibrating thought
ticking hearts life and breath
breaking mighty chains of events
causing revolutionist to colonize
evolutionistic upward mobility
touching higher planes where
the senile see now as eons go on
expanding into stretch bands of
time upward and onward
side by side locking arms
all smiles teeth are shown
death is no longer spoken of
as gone, we are coming home
