The Impress of a Passing Life

In a braided wood a story is being finished one more human life is coming to an end but let us go to the
Forest green and allegorically this tree and its origin is in the great woods of Tennessee so we step
Reverently and quietly as a silent observer but first let us see another forest close to the Atlantic coast let
Us observe anther woodsman as he goes forth to choose a tree for harvest his eye is not as an
Untrained Observer but he knows at a glance what he needs and the tree he wants and how it will serve
Two Purposes first he gathers his prize and hauls it down to the ship yard and sells it to a master
Shipbuilder He knows this woods future he has laid his claim to it he knows it will take time different
Periods of life Times he releases it to the sea it will face many a gale winds on many trade routes
Through the sea but with this experience of many days of hard ship a truly wondrous thing occurs
That ordinary piece of wood has become one of the finest trophies that wood can ever know yes those
Arduous hard crossings of many waters strained the wood gave it a depth of character its lines showed
The long days at sea it was a beauty that was rare and uncommon he purchased this same wood he sold
Those years before he took it and made a table that would be a glory to his home there is a divine
Woodsman that works in this same way step again into the woods silence greets you to the unfamiliar
Observer all seems the same all trees are the same you set listening to the birds and creaking of the
Limbs and then you notice that one of the trees has a mark on it with little bit of thought you realize
The tree is marked for harvest you fail with every attempt to see why it was chosen you see we don’t
Have the keen eye to see worth dimensions promise that has come to full identity in a life they are
Just a brother an uncle a brother-in-law the master seeking unique gifts for his dwelling cast his eye
Among earth's family when he finds that which has reached perfection then he brings it to himself
Those in this circle of life are stunned left with misgivings has He ever done a mean or cruel deed
No only those acts of special grace that defy exclamation he takes from us tender and gentle roots
Builds them into glorious golden illuminations that shine with such brightness that we are astonished
Material we had in common bond that gave to us riches He has raised them to the heights now they are
The shinning gifts that beckon us to our sweetest tomorrow so good by my fair prince as we knew and
Loved as a boy and as a man and now you are bequeathed to us in promise as he has become we to
have that noble promise we shall live again and always in the fathers presence

Patterned dots, existence connects
An anther to a stigma, reproduction
The pollen withers, pollution subsides
Colonies of bees vanish in the wind
Toxic genetic food wins in binge

Mother earth cries in pain, an ail
Food chains and supplies cut short
Globalised mass production of poison
Supermarkets stocking “all season”
Consumerism monopolies swell

The environment abused and misused
Plastic bottles displaced, a chemical sludge
The haunted “great pacific garbage patch”
Littered garbage, debris and chemical sludge
Humanity displaced, dissociated and divided
Ruining sea waters , floating landfill fueled

Probability of heightened population
Global panics, mimicked maniacs
Reductions of resources to feed all
Unsustainable long windy farms
Big roads, buried bills, stingy reality

We discovered a master painter
who hand paints intricate flowers
one-by-one to create
a picturesque landscape painting.

In his paintings, a cardinal sits
resting upon a tree branch,
and a monarch butterfly marks
His signature in each painting.

Indian blankets, greenthreads,
brown bitterweed, and Texas thistle -
all vitally important to his paintings.
Therefore, he paints bees to pollinate

the flowers, transferring life-giving
pollen from anther to stigma.
Yes, the master painter places
all of this in his painting with
beautiful intention.

on this rumbling
              stretch of tundra
                  no trees reach up
                     to soothe the sky
                     there is a pulling down
                  of wind tunnel vortex
               like conifers in reverse
          an icy howl
in the bonechill
               of time
Translucent holes,
         perfectly round, are dug
                in glacial archeology
                  and in the sea below
               gelid creatures lurk,
           half-frozen
         in the history of my
                                        soul
Only moss and lichens
grow on the rock,
somehow softening the
rugged textures
of the wild landscapes
that seethe
          just beneath my skin
and there, just
shy of the surface
is a quickening
a subtle pulse of veins
that pumps life
between the gales of
my heart's steppes
flushing out
           the pain
somewhere
deep
      within the private lotus
of my being
folioles unfurl
leafy shapes around
my organs
wrapping them like gifts
          as they undulate in whorls
opening my petals
in renewed consciousness
and deliberation
as a new kind of  
           stamen
                rises
    dusty pollen
powdery
budding ripeness
       bursting up
       and out
   of my deepest
       centered
whirlpool pistil
nectar dripping
in viscous webs,
to be caught upon
the tongue of
a new dawning
My silky outer
wings of vegetation,
slender stalks of
          filaments and anther
have been turned
into hot steel
They protect
    the tender vulnerable
                   when burned
as poison words held up to my
watchful eyes,
                   are properly discerned
I give myself over
to this new power,
my back arched to fully embrace
what is to come,
a universe calling thunder,
the old patterns undone
I am ready
to reveal my all
as the goddess deep within
comes to release my gold
suffusing light through skin
conjured from me
a relentless strength,
ever-growing,
                now tenfold
rising way past
soft-lit stratospheres
and orbiting
               to
                 bold

At the going down of the sun
will the world be less complete,
the cinched robe of night less intolerable,
as she ebbs away on cosmic string,
emulating a massless, dazed neutrino
blinking in and out of existence,
unobserved and uneffected,
liquored and unloved?

In the wake of a June flowering,
when foxglove lures the honeybee
in six day flash, bud to corolla,
blossom to blossom, parade of stigmas,
digitalis stamen braved, anther at his back,
the bee comes gathering where none else dare.

Dear Harlot
You kept my soul in check.
The loneliness encased was spent.
Wonders of unending flesh.
And yet the scent is fleeting.
The seclusion returns afresh.
The ethereal heart deceiving.

What once brought sweet memories.
Now are void parentheses.
My empty arms are bare.
In addition a cadaverous stare.
Skin cold with horripilation.
Trudging on in desolation.

I long for comfort I confess.
To the skies I do profess.
For on the ground my feet shall stay.
Am I worthy whose to say.

Another harlot.
Anther day.
Not my harlot.
Not my harlot.
Not my harlot.

A glimpse of her visage I pray.
Solitude is how I pay.

I. the breathing of human nature

her poetry weaves a chimera
through ontario maples,
ghostlike songs intoned in late november breath:
*i don't really want to be a pretty girl... *

whispers of woodsmoke fall from sky
(sky, pink as cochineal, pink as avarice
sky, blue as bruises, as jazz, as tropical waters)
she steps from the fog and ash into the beckoning trees,
seduced by leaves,
an autumn saturnalia of honey, flame, amber,
nectar, pistil, anther.

she is cupola and chalice,
budding fuchsia and iron cherry--
but she writes and breathes
as if something more than a woman
who knows all the names for the ocean
stirs and struts inside her.

II. the statue and sobriquet

piano wires melt into statues,
heat steals rusty bottle caps
and bends them eerily into muses.
butterflies perch astutely on their shoulders,
violet, violent, a mosaic of shredded lilies and shellac,
paris in flames, flowering tea-houses,
the mariana trench, a thicket of morning glory.

nature sculpted this metaphysical tribute to her
for all that she has done, for all that her bent fingernails
and snow-covered lips have given
to inspire solstice and equinox--

in the night-songs of the crickets,
crystal bells and rustic chirps,
she was lauded.


III. declaration

she feels the songs in her eyelashes
and writes of wine and palest bone,
fragments of bashful moon,

roots her fingernails into the tarnished canadian willows
and finds her way through magnolia clouds and sea-spray sky;
after all, she can soar.

A lonely lamppost  
it waits for the trains to wave hello
Night approaches
out scurry the roaches from under the drains
how gloomy the night is
the lamp still shines  
the moths are small
they cling to the light
anther train passes
car after car
graffiti spewed at the sides
what a lonely night
the whistle, it sings and the smoke arises
filling the sky with more darkness
It's dim now and frigid
the lamppost flickers
it rattles
the last train for the night
there is goes on the rickety tracks past the light
the lamppost soon burns out
tonight grows still

We are now left to hard media only
I can play you raw on my strings
and hear what you say
I can draw you on a paper and feel your touch
I can color your space and embrace your aura
Your pain is mine if you give me some
not to worry it won't hurt
The pain you have is a reflection of what I've already filtered out of you
before delivering it back to you
It's only fairness
this much is not much
as much as you can have
I know you so well
You know that thousand years is too long to carry a child
even for the one with thousand bellies my child
It was not only for my cleansing our meeting
I was not the only cursed one
You are not born of me and No not for me
I be your sin if you make me your masterpiece
The face of the scary the manipulated energy
has imprisoned the fairy so the prince can save her?
The prisoner stays in prison until she realizes she is in prison
until she falls in love with the prince
then the impurity of the entanglement disappears turns to a breeze
an unpetrified ****** in the openness of a field stands
The bewildered is freed and is free now
The curse melts to particles of bliss
The prince dies she becomes flesh and blood
for the first time after the time gone for one and the last lifetime
Alone she will walk this road until the end until they reunite in the spirit world
Joy she has knowing the fact
Joy she should take and give and learn
in this short lifetime of separateness and the corporal to bear and cherish
cause he may feel
for him she will be happy so he can feel
for him she learns joy so she can carry it to eternity
for him she sees a butterfly rubbing against the anther
and for him she smiles now

she was,
"catch of the century"
one in a ball game of,
a googolplex of pitches
and I catch her
every century
of love's timing
like,
    a meteor
          among meteors
                 riding the waves of
                         a supernova on the rim
             of the event horizon
        of our star-crossed fates
marks the spot
home base
we were in love
as earth and moon
in dance
in trance
in eternity
upon the thin ice of space
curling with the flows of time itself
we were the continuum of love
unfurling into dream
budding romances anew
like orchards
caskets of poetry
fermented odes of promise
     to one anther
uncorked,
every summer of our lips, entwined,
open to the experience of being
      conjoined between our hips, locked,
            and interlocking, for hours
              letting our waters flow up
        and
    down
                 stream
             past
the
           point of living
                  for the sake of sweat forbidding
panting breath
stealing motion from tiring
       treading life through rest
                we tread not flesh but the waters
of love itself
      drank from each other
             the secrets
of our love for each other
until none were had
and only that
                        which was truth, remained
and the secret was us, our love, and its fire
the passion aglow
in the magma chambers of the furnace being our future
calling us into the union of what was
      into the future of what could never be again
             that being, our
         loneliness,
                           our time apart, and our time together
                wed into our time
all our time was ours, as I lost myself to her
and she
              lost herself to me, and I forgot her
           as
               I could only remember myself
                            and she
in forgetting me,             could
                          remember       only herself
and I, in remembering myself, only knew her, my lover, herself
and she responded, "My love. I will never forget you..."
                                    "You are memory, and to forget you..."
is to no longer love her,
                                         and since
time has answered our yearning
for love need be deeper
than wood root
deeper than word
                                roots of iron would rust
                                and love needs air with water
                                iron would melt, forgetting itself
                                in the heat of such love betwixt us
                                envy would poison other lovers
                                so, worlds apart from other lovers
& their passions
we needed space and time
and the answer came, in that twilight of memory,
lost to the abandon of all life, we transpired the love of
all things other,
all things not us,
                 not we
                 not true love
I forgot, how her father beat her,
               when my touch, could enter her womb
               grasp her ovarian limbs
               and tell her mother she was safe with me
               and all her mothers became the song of letting go
               for my touch was that without harm
                                                       without sin
                     my touch was that which sought hope
                                       brought meal to her heart
                                       quilt to her nerves
                                       time to her wounds
                                       comfort to her fears
                and myself became distinct from all that be "men"
                                                           ­                    in her eyes
                                                            ­         glad, her heart became
                                                   her man I transcended all otherwise
                                          to be
                                                   the answer to her wanderlust
                                                      ­                                          for lovers
                                          I became her sole lover
                                                           ­       Only, was my name
                                     she was mine - already
                      and bound, as two wedding rings, became our roots
                      I knew her deepest pleasures,
                                                      ­   pain became my enemy
                                                           ­                     in her name,
                                                           ­                     my adversary
found love, in me, she had
and Love became our messenger,
                                         itself the tree, whose flesh was truth; us,
         whose bark was no animal speech,
                                       no madness compeled it
                                       no age marked its passage through time
only secrets of truth wound its coils of being
only truth spoke its limbs, chorused its fruit,
                   sighed its leaves in autumn
                                               chaste its death from winter
                                          its canopy was the spring
                                                     of all possibilities
and we were the plume of being
        the evergreen oasis of marriage,
                                                itself of our founding
                                                        ­      our purpose
                                                         ­            perfection
              eldritch in              cthulian tembre, our love,
                                 unsightly, in the eyes of
                                                              ­             hate's beholders
        the glare of the blindness unmasked
        their ignorances,
                                     absent of the light of knowing
                           truth absconded,
                           they were              set aflame by revelation
                   the rapture of guru, sage
                                            mystic, gnostic
                                            yogi, and all holies,
                                            suckling the fruit of
                                            mysteries long beheld
                                            at the foot of God Himself
                                            plucked from the tree of itself
                                                          ­                              the
                               ­                                                         understa­nding
itself, the wisdom granted, as if
                                                as if 't'were holy water,
                                                as if they wert gossamer cotton aflame
          no constitution for the raw love of wisdom itself
                no breath for humility
                     no peace for surrender, even, could they bear
the audacity, beheld in them, was them
all that
            was left
                          of shame
                                          transfixed, crucified, undone by experience
                          approaching, not of its arrival had they perished
             of its approach, unfit for the wisdom,
                                          in the understanding
                                          of our love had they cremated
                                                        ­                       in themselves
                                                      ­                         all hope for life
                                          they perished of their own futures
             and became the everliving of themselves
that no future beheld them, for the past
                                                            ­         became the limit
                                                           ­          of their potentials
             she and I became, that love untouchable
                                                     ­         imperishablee
                            even unto
                      us,
                           except in the perfect approach
                              hermeticized, canoes set as pyres
                                 where death goes to live
                                     we die by giving to life again
living anew in love
perfection, the price of being
and to fail, death again,
                    absolute, in failure,
                                     death be, my love, me
for adultery wouldst be, my silver bullet
due her, every moment
                she, the scorpion
                her tale, of another's bed,
                                                            ­ like Hailey's comet,
the shaft bore
                        in my soul
                        gored by weeping
                        my frailty, my honor sundered
                as Jericho, bore by powers untold
                but told, all the same,
                                                       she be my death,
                                                       my living be her demise
should faithlessness be her love
i be ******
                      till never I be
                                              in life
                                              never I
                                              be
for to breathe
is to live for love
and my breath
she taketh
in love,                 and surely
the I be                 dead
                              without her love, spent of breath is my life

                              for my life is her love
                   the death of our love
                   my life be undone
                                                   partake, of my grave
                                                           ­        my supper
                                                          ­         my last meal
                                                   when the fox
                                                             ­        was the hen
                                                             ­                       all along...

What have you become
Is our love all but done
This equation doesn't add up
As I lay at night
Contemplating should i put up a fight
If its over ill be colder
With you I feel warmer
My heart feels the drift
A pain indicating a shift
But I don't recognize you
You left no clues
However is this my cue
To hit the road jack
Anther heart attack
Better yet a broken heart
Smashed to pieces all apart
My mind flows with memories of us
Calculus couldn't figure out our trust
I refuse to believe you were a bust
Taking the pain as I must

You listen to me lament, and hold my hand
Like the filament that holds my anther
For me there is no other

And you are the catalyst for my growth
The calyx beneath my flower
Keeping my peduncle standing firm and straight
Through every debunkle caused by fate

You come near,
     and I am suddenly in bloom

I'm in anther room, my own
surgeon, slicing myself
open in search of muscles
aching with worthlessness.

I'm a soldier who missed
his homecoming, I shouldn't
be here, but anchored
to the bottom of a lake.
Choice weapon in hand,
looking to the surface
with glassy eyes.

I'm here, staring
through my feet
as they sink
further
   and further
      into the dirt.

Miss the ones that chose to die,
Sensations that we want to leave behind.
How and why so many people lie.
Or give up before they even tried.

Lie, cheat, steal, made to feel unhuman, another pill,
Sit still, you tell me to chill, the unreal,
Delete evil past or continue to be ill,
Pain ****, sane ****, double drop morning after pills.

It will be okay, mind chill, forget it mate,
It is just anther mental headache,
Use that confidence and try to communicate,
Day to day, rain to pain, tomorrow is another day.

I am this way this is not insane,
Today I am tired, emotionally drained.

I thought to acquire
A piece of wall art;
Reproduced in mass would be fine
As long as it’s attractive, yet honest,
without tasteless jest,
And appears to be organic,
Cultivated
At the artist’s discretion.

In the catalogue, my attention falls
To a print
Of an anatomical drawing
From a botanical field guide,
Colored with pencil: the perianth
A pastel pink
That yields to a gentle yellow
Just before
the petals are enveloped
by the green sepal coat.

High on the hanging stems
Round buds of emerald and buttery cream
Follow their elders
In gradient lines of expansion
To the end where the eldest
Bend into blossomed bells;
All come together and seem
As a pink and gold Easter dress.

From the petals stretch
The pistils and stamen.
Reaching
Reaching
Gasping, I can nearly hear
The flower’s patient breathing,
Waiting
For a kiss
From a fluttering errant proboscis.
The pistil aims for the ether,
To another’s anther and
Pollen dusted petals.

Tempted now am I
To wear always
A corsage about my neck.

she stool my heart
And she said
"your heart belongs to me forever"
I was fooled by her words
I was fooled by her pretences

I gave her my heart my soul
I didn't even have to think about
I just gave her everything that belongs
To me

She played me, she broke my heart
And left it in peace, now she says sorry
But I think her apology means something
Is left in me

maybe she left a peace of happiness in
My heart that's why she wants to come back
No no I can't forgive her, she left me
For anther man, she can do it again

She says this time is different she really
Love me,
But I heard those words before
And she left me crying, crowing,rumbling,sleeplessness and sadness

she's a pain that keeps on coming back
Hurting different places
She's a devil that hunts a happy soul

Am doing better without you go go
Back to your man that you left me for

She she she she she she

Just anther devilish smile
The kind that fades after while
A cruel joke like a deep cut
They broke my shell like a nut
The names and hands come like knives
Beating on innocent lives
She tried so hard to be brave
But there was no one she could save
A kiss goodbye soon forgotten
That's proves this world is rotten

THE PAIN THAT IS HEAVY ON MY HEART IS THE PAIN OF A LOST SOUL WITH EVERY INCH RIP FROM ONE END TO ANTHER.
THE FEELING OF THIS PAIN WITH TEARS OF SADNESS THAT NO WORDS COULD EVEN WXPAINED.
MY WORRIES AND MY GIVING OF LOVE THAT I HAD AND STILL HAVE FOR YO IS BROKEN TO PEACES THAT IS SHOULD NOT HAVE TO TRY TO PUT BACK HLE AGAIN. THEREE ARE SO MANY THINGS THAT WAS TO STILL BE DONE MANY HOURS OFB TIMES THAT WE SHOULD BE RUNNING. THE WHEELS OFF THIS ROAD THAT U NOW HAAVE PASSED WITH OUT ME ARE BLOCKED BECAUSE YOU LEFT ME TO FAST AND TO SOON. THERE I FIND MY SELF FRONT OF THE WINDOW WITH RAIN DROPS OF SADNESS AND PAIN ASKING WHY? MY GOD WHY? NOT  KNOWING WHAT TO DO NOW THAT YOUR ARE NO LONGER HEAR MY FRIEND. NOT ABLE TO BREATH BECAUSE YOU STOP BREATHING ON ME. HOLDING IT ALL IN WHERE INJUST WANT TO LET IT ALL OUT AND WAKE UPO FROM THIS NIGHT MARE OF MINE.FOR ME MY FRIEND YOU WHERE THE BEST FRIEND ANY ONE COULD HAVE. YOUR HEART WAS FULL WITH SO MUCH LOVE THAT YOU COULD ALWAYS BSEE THE LOVE THAT YOU GAVE TO THOSE THAT JUST NEEDED A HELPING HAND YOU NEVER SAID NO. THE MADNESS THAT ONCE WAS WITH IN YOU GOT NOVER COME BY BEING MY FRIEND AND LETTING ME IN YOUR LIFE. NOT ONLY YOU SHOWED ME AND HELP ME YOU LET ME HELP YOU AS WLL. I JUST WANTED YOU TO KNOW THAT ALL THE TIMES WE HAD FROM DAY ONE WHERE THE BEST TIMES OF MY LIFE THAT I WISH YOU WHERE HEAR FOR MANY MORE... I FIND IT SO HAED TO LET GO OF SOME ONE SO SWEET AND LOVING AND CARING AS YO FOREVERB AND EVER YOU WILL HAVE A BIG PART OF MY HEART I WILL NEVER LET ANY ONE TAKE THAT FROM  ME. I FIND IT SO HARD TO BREATH ANY MORE AND NEVER WANTING TO LET U GO. I LOVE U ALWAYS AND FOREVER YOU MY BESTFRIEND BOSS AND SO MUCH MORE MY DEAR LOVE  ABEL TOVAR REST WITH ME IN PEACE IN HEAVEN WE SOME DAY SOON WILL MEET.

I just don't get it. I really really don't.
And that's what's killing me.
I'm trying to rack my mind to find out where I messed up.
But I can't seem to find the answer.
And I never will.
And it's starting to make me mad.
It hurts when I pause and look at the world and notice how everyone's together, how everyone's happy.
And then I just look at myself and I wonder why aren't I happy, like them?
Why am I not together with someone, like them?
Why?
And that's what brings us full circle, folks.
Just me going on and on, but nobody really cares.
Nobody really is listening.
I do everything I can to put a smile on people's faces even when I can't put a smile on my own.
I try so hard to show people, but the world outside doesn't care.
But they'll sure as hell care about so many others, but not me.
Thanks, it means a lot beautiful.
I've come to learn I'm just anther spoke on the wheel.
The wheel will keep going after I'm gone.
And so many people out there are so hypocritical.
They're so cheap they won't even tip a canoe.
It's like they don't pack enough chromosomes some times.
I seriously think most people out there take IQ Tests and they come back negative.
But then there are people who have egos that are so fat they can go to the beach and sell shade.
See my point, people don't care unless you're famous or dead.
They don't care how hard you try and fight.
And now, 205 years after the birth of the man behind the concept of "Survival of the fittest," I find myself learning to realize that postulate is true.
And it also feel like it's the survival of the sickest, and I'm infected.
And why I can't be someone out there without making someone mad makes me so irritated.
I try my hardest to put everyone first, but still everyone puts me last.
I'm just a guy looking for someone to care.
I'm just a guy looking for someone to ask what's wrong and actually stay to hear.
But nobody wants to listen.
People won't listen to your cries, your pain, or your problems.
But if they'd listen to one thing, they should listen to this:
From here on out, It's anything goes.
And trust me, trust me when I tell you this right now.
I have the best thing going.

-Nick Moser

Dear Mom & Dad,
This is the first chance I had to write to you. I'm sorry if I made you worry. I want you to know that all is well and I arrived safe and sound at Camp Heaven. Everything around me is more beautiful than I could ever have imagined. The trip was short. I got here just after I closed my eyes and fell asleep. It was as if no time had past at all. I miss you so very much. I was told to tell you not to worry because I would be seeing you soon. Please pass this letter on to all my relatives, friends at home, and at school. I arrived standing before a huge gate. A Beautiful Angel was there waiting to greet me; he had very large wide wings protruding from his shoulders and was wearing a whiter than snow robe with a golden sash around his waist. A Sparkling Halo circled above his head; his whole being glowed as bright as the sun. I was able to see his face; it was unlike any face I had ever seen before...perfect, soft, and gentle. He greeted me with a loving smile. I asked him who he was; he answered with a low and echoed voice: "My name is Gabriel. I am an Archangel and Messenger of God." I could hardly believe what I was seeing: a real live angel! He extended his arms to me; I rushed and fell right into them. He embraced and held me tight, then said: "Welcome home Michael." As he held my body close to his, I felt a profound sense of love, peace, and joy flow throughout whole body unlike anything I had ever experienced before. Mom and Dad, don't feel bad but the love I felt was a thousand times stronger than anything I ever felt before. He then said: "Come Michael, all your brothers and sisters are eager to see and greet you. Grab on to my cloak." We traveled through the air for a short while and landed on this wonderful outdoor arena that looked like a King's Palace all shiny and bright. A large group of men, women, and children had gathered. There were kinds of animals  milling around. I noticed there were doggies too. I was so thrilled to see doggies. I saw lots of Black Labs, just like our Smoky Bear. Gabriel put his arm around my shoulder and announced: "Children, this is your new brother Michael; welcome him home!" Everyone cheered and applauded louder than a crowd at a sports stadium; they all came to greet me and gave me lots of hugs and kisses. I felt like a Super Star! Gabriel then said: "OK, enough kissing and hugging, it's time to celebrate!" I started hearing the sound of music playing but didn't know where it was coming from. I looked up; descending from the sky was an army of Celestial Angels playing the most beautiful and enchanting music I had ever heard. Each one had a different instrument: a trumpet, harp, bell, and others instruments. The Celestial Music permeated the entire palace. Then, suddenly,a huge  table and chairs appeared in the center of the palace; they glistened like gems! The table was longer than a football field and filled with a assortment of all different kinds of fruit, vegetables, and breads; the spread was enormous!  Gabriel  seated at the head table stood, lifted his wine glass high and said: "Children, I hereby propose a toast to welcome the arrival of God's new adopted son, our new brother, and new addition to The Family of God, Michael! The crowd lifted their glasses and shouted: "Here! Here!" and sipped the wine. The Angels started playing a tremendous joyous sounding song. Everyone shouted out say: "Welcome Home Michael! Welcome Home!  Michael!" Gabriel then said: "Hallelujah!  It's time to eat, drink, and be merry! Let the celebration and feast begin!"  Mom and Dad, I'm in Heaven!  It's more wonderful and beautiful  than words could ever express!  Although I miss you and all my friends very much, please know that I am as happy as I ever could possibly have imagined. Everyone is always filled with Joy and Laughter and truly show their Love and concern toward one anther. . Gabriel told me this will be my ' Eternal Permanent New Home and Family!' I can stay here forever and never have to worry again about getting sick, growing old, or have bad things happen. Please be well and take care of yourself. It's just like when you sent me away to those other camps for the summer, except this one is the greatest one of them all and will never end. I am in Heaven and here is where I was meant to be, where I belong, and where I will live in love forever and ever!  Well, I gotta go now; they're calling my name to join in on another exciting outdoor game.  I'll try to write again soon but it's hard to stop from all the fun I'm having. I love you both so very much!
Your son, Michael
　
By Milton Lopez Delgado
December 20, 2012
[email protected]
(570) 848-1682 (LL)
(570) 780-5253 (Cell)