Angels in the Garden

Today is a day among others that are created to caress you in an illusion of existence. No truth in believing nor disbelieving, only an illusion that permeates your soul like mist in a forest. Will your next breath be your last? It will matter not yet, only to the living who remain.
Angels appeared in the garden dressed in their business attire during dark days of September. America mourned as if it were their first. Wave the stripes of liberty like you care though you know not why. Shoot your brother down from the sky, listen to their cries. Fill your heart with hate and rage, you know not why. Stomp the graves, dessicate the dead, you know not why. Angels in the garden, but you won’t listen to reason….WHY!!? All for the dried ink of man’s little books, one saying its right, so another should die. You’re all indifferent to life, as long as you’re right, light the fuse, twist the knife. Little books filled with ink now filled with the blood of man. Splattered from the right to the left, cross the continents till it’s a party of the ages. Ignorance pervades from one generation to next till the fire extinguishes itself. Angels in the garden can lead you to reason. Listen, realize that death doesn’t exist. Only a transformation of energy to a higher form. One that doesn’t rely on self-destruction, a true form of bliss. A real heaven. Listen to the others that have experienced a higher glory. Your brothers on high are still your neighbor. Read between the lines splattered across the pages, angels in the garden are not your saviors. Open your heart, realize, your true life labor. Hold my hand, we’ll walk together for I’ve seen it all. The darkness of September and the angels’ calls, death doesn’t exist just a continuance of all. Let’s walk through the garden; nothing to fear at all.

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