Nirvana @FL350

Lost every wealth
profession, identity and
the blabbering Berry here
I leave thru
a singing arch.

There I see Peter,
Saint or sinner
I care not.

I look up to the brightness
Searching my Father
Eyes closed and
with arms wide open.

I am cross.

Head to toe it climbs up
and wanders across
The coiled one
that snakes thru
Its sense finer than the finest.

How far and how long?
Pops a thought.

It breaks the very instant
The print presses the pass.

I thank profusely
Peter, the dispassionate,

For passing me through
yet another
Airport Security check.

Skies, here I come..

Nirvana @ FL350.