Written and posted for
Believe this--I know nothing about many things.
Even don't know when the clapper claps
if the bell sounds, resounds, sings, rings.
Whether heaven is or ain't
or whether any such Peep
named sinner...or saint, is
not necessarily the point.
Neither here nor there (or
maybe IS there and here?)
The artist* is much like (unto) God.
Talented, creates her Peeps,
places them in desired location,
land and seascapes, village, nation,
emanating from erupting soul, her love.
Now...is that not like her God above?
Trees, breeze, leaves, created
with pen(s), ink(s) and blank sheets
Girl climbs mountain thousand miles away,
violinist plays tunes--glad, sad songs.
Tunes at distant tombs, plays them today
and through all of earth-giving/// BONG!...BONG!
(Not sure. Was a clapper clapping?
Was a bell ringing?)
ALARM CLOCK!!! Sheeesh.
Are heavenly Peeps singing, laughing? If
relatives watching, what FUN must they enjoy.
"See? Steve is riding that scooter on Tamiami Trail!"
Five uncles and One aunt,
wishing to ride--but can't.
Are dozens of my sainted cousins
feeling Burt's softness?
Kitty-cat, five inches long,
rescued 15 years before
from under wood pile next door
one cold, rainy and dark December night...
Souls living in complete, perfect happiness:
When I lie down in bed,
kitty wrapped around my head
purring, nuzzling neck, licking face--hmmmm!.
As those saints look earthward and see
do they ever wish that, for just a moment,
they were me?
But I can only think in humor human,
smiling during reveries such as these.
Steve E (aka steveroni)
LOVE and PEACE!