streams of consciousness

ever since the days of yellow buses and rocket ships
that landed after lunar conquest
i have yearned to see beyond this skin
the bold courageous warrior
that lies within

he triumphs over veiled conspiracy
the grassy knolls of the deity
flying headlong into the undiscovered
creeds of truth
and that's where i am
before the thoughts slow down
and the angels bring the grace of sleep.

This (one and only) God
watches as I tremble under the weight of mortality
and dream of weightless peace
far above the ruling gravity

how often i have wished not to wish
but the wishing is as sure as sun.
nothing stops its intent to rise
above my feeble alibis
the beat of yeaning has begun.
Sweet Jesus whispers still:
O Jerusalem.