Jesus isn’t waiting for me anywhere. I nailed him
to a tree. A long time ago. And hell fires are extinct to me now. I can no more believe
in them than I can the idea that mercy was
coming for me and just lost its way.
I write this in a field – Gaia’s emerald hair is
what leaves this paper water damaged.
I am not crying now or even fighting tears,
If you could see me now you’d know
that I’m smiling. Like I never have before.
I do not know if we really take anything with us
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