Language of Heaven

Discussion in 'Poetry Realm' started by Carpe Noctem, Aug 22, 2012.

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  1. Carpe Noctem

    Carpe Noctem Neos Helios

    Feb 25, 1999
    Ideas are jewels that turn to shrapnel
    Piercing through the eyes
    Of those who hold them up too high.

    The mind is the garden of eden
    Lying untouched in the center of a flesh and bone dystopia
    Whose pure flowing waters turn autumn brown
    Through our faucets
    Into perverted forms offensive to our stomachs.

    The imagination is the seat of divinity
    And god is the infinite clothed in white gloves
    Whose fingers collect no dust
    Whose brush hand never shakes.

    Beauty and perfection are the language of heaven
    The fluent tongue of the mind
    Which never translates well into a flesh and bone world.
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