It is here, hiding just beneath the flesh

It is here, swirling in this blood

It is here, filling my lungs with air

It is here, beating within my chest

It is here, sleeping underneath my fingernails

It is here, in the electricity that dances in my head

It is here... it is here... it is here...

Now the wind is whispering, speaking of it

Now the sky is on fire, illuminated by it

Now the earth is shaking as it runs with it

Now the oceans are rising to meet it

Now the mountains are changing colors as they make love to it

Now the cities are falling as they try to escape it

Now I am apart of it

Now I am... Now I am... Now I am...

The fleas of the dogs can sense it

The hawks waiting in the trees can feel it

The ants in the hill have touched it

The grass of empty meadows sway to it

The snake in Eden's garden has tasted it

The storm over the ocean has screamed with it

The sun and the moon from afar have watched it

It is fast coming... It is fast coming... It is fast coming...

How can we come to know it? It knows us all to well

How can we measure it? It has measured us since time began

How can we master it? It has been the master of us all

How can we tame it? It has made us docile like whipped dogs

How can we understand it? It understands more than we believe

How can we embrace it? It has been our lover

What is it..? What is it..? What is it..?

Questions have only pushed us further from the truth...

It is the Answer...

I believe in nothing. I believe in everything. I believe in no one. I believe in everyone. I am a paradox that walks and talks and spits and dances and runs and throws balls of fire into the sun and gives my heart to no one and everyone one and certain beautiful someone. I am the fist for your vanished air Bukowski once said as he played is electric piano and spat ink on dirty sheets of paper.

I am no savior, I am no shepard, I am nothing to be forsaken or to be loved. I am nothing to be seen or heard, and yet I keep screaming at the sky, waiting for answers from above. I am nothing, and I am everything. I am everything.

I am fucking everything.

I am only a man. I am only a man. I am only a man.

And that is enough.

Bring me your faithless. Bring me your hopeless and depraved. Bring me your criminals and psychopaths. Bring them, and today they shall feed from the waters of sacred springs. Didn't your Christ and your Bhudda believe in love and yet they never gave their heart to men or women. Strange occurance that. So throw off the lights, let the music blare, let it shake the walls and bring these cities of metal and men crashing down like towers on September 11th. Down in flames, down in fire, down with dust, down with blood.

Let it all fall and see where it lands. The truth is further than you can imagine

We are no closer to the answer.

The answer... the answer... the answer...

It doesn't hide in manuscripts. It doesn't hide in poetry, or in bibles, in books, or CD's. It doesn't come flowing out of preacher's mouths, and certainly not from the flapping jaws of poloticians. It can't be found in the ink of an authors pen, it can't be seen on two story cinema screens. You won't find it out in nature. You can't find it inside a house. It's invisible on the X-rays, because it never wasted time hiding in yourself.

You can look through the lenses of your tele/micro/radio-scopes, but you'll only find empty space, cells and frequency.

No. It's not there. The answer is hidden somewhere far more clear.

It's right here ---> .

. <--- It's right there.

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It's everywhere.

So take a moment. Scratch your head. Roll your eyes. Crack your fingers. Lick your lips. Shift your weight. Swivel your chair. Get up. Go to the Bathroom. Take a piss. Flush the answer down the drain. Turn off the computer screen.

I'll be waiting here.