Meager and eager

Whenever, wherever, however, we don't know. The answers are so stunning though. My face, it tastes like afterglow, of a million molecules throughout my conscious rope they go whizzing by, assisting broken hope inside these ties. This is the sky.

Gravitational does pull. However, do we gullible folks see the eerie side of the mirror? The meat locker begets us a glimmer of our hope. Nothing but soil, nothing but soul. The space between does go, on and on forever. We fall soft as a feather, lest there be cancer growth. Tis the disease of imbalance in the whole.

Remember physics? How's that for a good time to change. Three different stages, then to the fourth arrival. Yes, it's time now. Pick up your hypocrisies and liturgies and hit or miss philosophies to see what lies in store between your soul, and the universes whole. We aren't living, living happens to it all.