Way of the Cosmic Celtic Christs

a turnip for the Books,

a stranger comes to visit

by chance of choices synchronous

where ever 2 / 3 meet in my name of con~fusion.

 

eternity is older than the false

myth~makers day dreams of terrible fears.

 

The Word made flesh in every day

thought and feeling,

time is revealing,

time lines healing

approaching

extremes of polarity,

profess clarity.

 

A poem for the curing of ham,

for itching pigs and fishes,

pearls for the seas

of humanity's hopes and fears.

 

Hope ye en joy dear :)