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(A lone voice whispers)
Sometimes blowing out these ripples of purgatory fire that burns deep inside
Like a raging inferno
The suffering of standing alone here
In this ever falling soul purging rain
Compelled to just think
By mysterious powers wherever I go
I sometimes remember my long-forgotten lover's cherished name
In abundant waves from yesteryear
Even though it brings such discomfort and disturbing pain
But still, I'm forced to remain
And this blue apocalypse I feel is now so surreal
As I stand here
Burning up in the falling rain and snow while trying to heal
But my spirit guide who I currently know
As Harrington the Third
Says it's no big deal
For emotions are soon to be made redundant by a higher power
As we ascend
For in moments or even centuries
We'll all be part of this galaxy's ethereal dust
And all they are
Emotions
Are representations of the human condition
Distractions linked to our once mortal interactions
That lingers as we try to atone
For we are now entrusted to be freed from the husks
Of who we once used to be
To forget all through being commissioned to review and plead our case for absolution
Through well-learnt prayers and profound beliefs
We were once brought up to trust and use as our shields
With some even begging and kneeling
To be welcomed into Elysium Green Fields
But I'll always remember her
Even after all these years
That red rose I once met
Downtown in good old Tennessee
By the petrol station
When I parked on the junction
By that black expensive marquis
On the state line
And when I looked over and her green eyes met mine
I can always recall how they turned a golden key
And opened up in my soul
A portal to a new world of opportunities within a sly wink
No one else could see
Which made me feel so human in time
And now with real eyes filled with burning fire
That never tire
I can finally see some strands of truth
As I think
This fickle universe is so dammed percutaneous
Purging all who once had skin in a blink
Is that why we the dead
Are now cursed to whisper and speak about our past lives
Forever in rhymes
As we stand in this grey shade on the precipice
A brink and link between two dimensions
Harrington the Third calls
The Purgatio Cauldron
A woeful place filled with the universe's many lost children
Waiting and praying to see the 9 Spheres of Heaven
Copyright John Duffy
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