In Sight of Pradise

Today’s a shadow on the ground,
a dark to which I’m falling.
Though all it does is lie around,
it acts like it’s my calling.

Night drops — Cramped feathers in a pack —
No light can crack between them —
No starlight — Trapped in their black sack —
How heavily I dream them —

Hard payback — Fear begins to race —
Stacked sins of karma cover —
Though here’s my mortal body’s place,
my soul knows of another . . .

This consciousness yields lightening spears . . .
My human weight lifts, briefly . . .
I’m briefly one with godly peers . . .
want to go back . . . completely.

Then this sight’s gone, as are the night
and shadows of contention . . .
But mem’ry now is soft and bright . . .
and true, not my invention.