Who knew
The seventh floor of hell
Holds a view
Of red roofs,
A curl of saltwater,
A distant tower crane,
Baker over all.

Molecules of
Oxy and ethanol
Fall from receptors.
Blood levels plummet.
Straight down to ground
I gaze,
Contemplate
A fall to end it all,
A plummet into grace?
An end to suffering
Forever.

Through seven gates
Flows
Our self of such illusion.
Best not to close those gates
Oneself.
The finger of time
After all
In but a blink
Will flick them closed.
Blessed then comes
Reawakening of True Self,
Remembrance of true birth,
In the Timeless Realm
Of a million gates,
And no gates at all.

And in seven days
I learn to cut meat
With a plastic fork
And a plastic spoon.