my pocky lips

the inner work that hasn't been done comes home to roost in the fullness of time: our individual karma, whatever it is, slaps us in the face

in these last moments, make right what you can, and leave the rest to Creator: no weapon or machismo will save you, only how much of your wholeness you have claimed... only how much of your selfishness you have transcended

will you be surprised when Gaia Herself rises up and whispers in your ear have you bonded with Life?

then in the final moment of existence, what words will you find, as a great force arrives in the sky, in which some will recognize the Christ, and asks you how open is your Heart?

before a genie snaps and all rushes back into the medicine bottle 

(i just hope there's a filter on that thing to keep some of the bugs out)