All matter and space, share a same base state
at some unknown point on the cosmic scale.
Things with edges intersect and relate
amidst a limitless milieu. The graille
IS the universe, in us and out.
No separate outside thing, can Ever be.
The whole of it is God without a doubt.
The Spirit of complete eternity,
can be anywhere or way it wants.
As worms or whales or something in between,
it owns us all. It owns our star, and haunts
the mystic byways of our minds, unseen.
Our only goal on Earth is to align
and fix the focus of our Self-machine.
As is, the wreckage from our long decline
is quite impassable. The gaunt cuisine
of canned crap fed, our hardwood chipper brain
can be improved, through only work and time.
No priest was born, whose words confer a gain
to those who hope to shed the slime and grime
whose taint pollutes pure Psyche's mystic well.
Grindstone time! With shoulder to the wheel,
the work is ours alone. if we're to dwell
where angels don't fear shit, and Grace is real.