by Richard Tornello
Rust, rot, roil, and toil here in Heaven’s hell.
Our daily bread from the soil,
here, as we live in heaven’s hell.
Or, is it Hell’s heaven?
The best we get for good behavior,
eighty years up, then,
out and down.
Murder and war looked upon with favor,
So, it’s not a guess.
(A few see through the veil,
lifted beyond the screaming wails.)
Do it again; some karma preaches
volitional weight pasted on, molecule by molecule
until, a few see through the veil.
Like a black hole, evaporation of
the mass created by volitions waste,
through endless genetic inheritances, replay, compressions
of pain and wrenching birth,
each movement up, less and less.
More lightness of being.
© 2010 Richard Tornello
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