White or black wings embedded on the backs of humanistic beings soaring unseen to mortals throughout the harmonious and hateful horizons of Earth and beyond.
Deity's don't judge, they simply mirror the final results of mortality. A long dirt nap, or ashed in the urns of time? Upon death, do our spiritual hearts and minds continue beating and thinking in the endless abyss of cold liquid black? Are some souls sent to scream in the furnaces of fury forever? Perhaps there are sensational souls that become breeding lovers and fabulous fools living on in the lush lands of permanent serenity, abundant with creativity.
Slumbered dreams, nightmares and awakened fantasies create coherency and confusion among the living. Mark Schurr
