The World to Come is coming on its own feet barefoot.
If it flew, it would have been here already, but not.
It is a dawdler, like Nebuchadnezzar’s graphic image
You can not see it well until you graze some grass.
Spectacular prospects are contaminated by bullets
Projectiles spit in the camouflaged soup of the nations
It taste sulphuric in the devastated gardened city
The postmortem baptized dead can not help the books.
Medications fight nature, poisons kill it thoughtlessly,
Rejuvenation, resurrection, reincarnation on the mast
What you can do about it, is a must, what you can not, too
The brain does not trust the eyes, as the picture is upside down.
Corrections must be made, moral thrusters be established
Enabling our better half to become really better and alive
The course must be set to the skies reaching out the stars
Heaven can wait a bit more together with the Almighty God.
VERSUS PAUL 