Tillich and Revelations 4 ... thoughts

Spirit is without sin
Sinners without a soil
A free mind is without shelter.
Shelters the sky

If spirit has been spirited away into psychosis then why does timpani of revelation continue to caw? It's as if the lawless feeding on wars by democratic polls has received devilish executive powers while disputing a Godless humanity. If law is the mirror of an absolving absolute justice then if the silver back reflects the innocent apish pane how then do we justify images of children evolved to scrubbing our toxic waste in sublime service to our humanitarian consumptions? How then can we trust law as secularly divined when it is technically a disease making us sense the scent of wealth by welts of cents for the tumor to arise? Pennies from heaven, save us from the penury of justice. If we kill a god, nail a chrysalis to the cross, will not his mother be cross or will we turn and pin her also upon history just for humanity's glory? The insanity of Christology is that we are free, bought free and clear just to see how a seed will hold personal reigns for a second till eternity reclaims. Did then the first sin exist if all sins are emanations of One blindness? Did it pupate before or after the stubborn stumble towards sublimity? Did we stall to bray or pray, when the gasping psychosis has more than nine lives in her arsenal. So then what of the spirit of man eternal or infernal? What is your personal verdict?

719.
6r6r7r6 7r6r7r6
oS-oiS-gS-eS lS-ooD-nS-ooD

An itch - has a compulsion
Of cloistered demands
As One possesses addictions
A nerve ending commands

A tilt of reason and sense -
And so much is but dreams -
The justice - for evidence -
And for Her salving creams.

721.
8r8r6r8r8r6 8r8r6r8r8r6
Behind - rusty histrionics -
Before - dreams being bionic -
Me - comically iconic
Life appears comely at twilight,
Lapping old morns from Western night,
Before sleep becomes tragic -

Tis unclaimed worlds - they would deride -
In predestined - imprisoned Hive -
Whose Queen - broods motherless -
Herself - His Babylon so ripe -
Herself - Herself evolving lives -
In diverse unity -

Tis spook before autonomic -
Tis sculptor behind the cleric -
A Monster in dead seeds -
With Sunlight returning its Easter
And Moonlight tasting her Bitters
And Armageddon - Lies -

723.
4r10r4r8 4r6r4r4 4r4r8r4
sDsD-sT-spNspN-rN spDpD-pT-pD-sT

It hissed - and hissed -
A little prick I heard - my freeway spaced
It rolled - and rolled -
And wheezed tirelessly, for shoulder -

It railed - and railed -
As asleep on the world -
Its pedal gasped -
Then swept Beyond -

Oh, Prick - Good Buy
To Auto New -
The Air's flair unbridled - by nail -
Too flat for Juice -