Reach Out. Time. Requiem.

Perchance,
it is requiem.

Or, perchance,
it is time.

Time to reunite old love,
with new divine,

to take the word
and leave it bare-boned
and aleatoric.

Back unto its own basics.

Time to knock the whole pretentious lot
out on its whore-ass.
The whole convention and all its bullshit.

And to push forward, against.
For without a push to begin,
how can there be a push to

end.?

--

Believe in God.