extraordinary fantasia, fantasy extraordinaire

There is an opening in the dark
maybe not so much so as a glitter of hope
maybe hope itself
When I kneel down to the ground
to put the slippers on my father’s feet
I see God’s feet, I see my creator’s feet
There is a contortion of appeasement on my mind
not a loud laugh, not a giggling shallow high pitched, disengaging ranting
but a satisfied immortal soul who touched God
This is my extraordinary fantasia
extraordinary fantasia
fantasy extraordinaire
There is a cool breeze to keep you content
not me, I am always fuming spewing dirty words
escaping from noises, and loud noises and louder noises
there is no escape for all you know

But to look into my son’s eyes
who is the reason I am immortal
and at the same time is in need of more space
which I cannot. So I squeeze myself back into my shelf
Father is God, My son is my immortality
And I don’t feel any pain
any unused energy is gathered in my brain
To spew out hatered words about religion
false religion, dividing religion, the one that promising thing it cannot deliver
This is my extraordinary fantasia
Fantasy extraordinaire

And I look at ten people who are rowing in a muddy river up the stream
And why ten? First they come to the river then they try to find a dry place.

I feel no pain
I feel no gain
I am immortal
I am blasphemous
I don’t need a priest or a mullah to put my hands in God hands
I am already putting the slippers on my God’s feet
There was a miracle today I call it the good Tuesday
When I learned that God has a lot explaining to do

This is my extraordinary fantasia; Fantasy extraordinaire