birthday i

in the year of our lord who paused with force to blow the doors to the lost to cause all who floss to have clean teeth or feats stronger than the beat of a still heart pumping blood for more movement of the feet on the earth as it rotates towards the sun for fun not long gone but born in the year of the fat cat who ate rats for facts as witnesses pass tracts in packs of pacts made to save the lost soul for more goals to be had in the life after death lies to the truth teller who dwells in a wine cellar hidden behind bricks built by his friendly enemy while sampling the wonderful fruits of the juice from the labor of a foot born in the year of the pig too big to move quick and avoid the beating stick leading to a poor man’s table, breaking fasts in sizzling pans opening nostrils to glorious worship as the sound of the fryer blind’s the desire to all but food, hunger rules as the mind begs for energy to do its thinking, wondering, if we all marked the birth of the year from the day we are born, what would the world look like? how many resolutions would you make on your birthday in honor of the cycle of revolutions you have made on this planet as it rotates ever slowly into the sun, what is a new year? and who cares or fears fading away into oblivion if he does not cheer?

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