Fern, the Resurrected


What an interesting thought…

Living proof of the soul of this planet

Whose clothing is us.

And when a strong strand loses her head,

She thinks herself into form.

Exactly the same as before…

With his permission, of course,

After her apt logic gave him no choice.

“You said I have everlasting life!”

So he repaired her in the ether

On the carpenter’s bench.

She chose her eyes.

“Orange!” she said. “And my nose like a bird.”

“You will scare them,” he laughed.

“You will scare them enough as it is.

Are you sure you want to go back?”

“Yes, I am. I want to be a grandmother!”

Nothing dies.

Death is never death where there is love.

We are all life as life has become,

Evolved throughout the measures

Of this universe.

We spank along through empty space,

Like jewelry round the neck of a flame.

Her face, glowing, seeks nothing, being light.

And we, her children, travel along,

As children of her living child.


She simply won a fight with God.

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