I'm in the Garden of Eden with Alister Crowley,
Debating the notion of original sin and the validity of biblical prophecy.
(digressing)" Nostradamus was so overrated..." To which I reply, "No, just misunderstood."
Lost in translation is the moral of the story, rewritten, revised and edited into nothing resembling the original.

Later that night in the ruins of an ancient citadel,
We read Tarot for the guests at a diner party hosted by Faust.
Mr. C said he found the Thoth deck more adept at uncovering secrets,
To which I replied wryly, "I know. I am their keeper."
And all of the flora and fauna extinct on Earth flourish here.
A winter on the hearts of men sent them to Purgatory,
Where their brains are held in cryogenic stasis trying to scream, "Just kill me!"

Now and then I dream of a place and time I never lived in,
Where things like trust and peace are sunbeams that shine bright and new each morning.
Lucidity is easy with traditional reassurances,
But only the nightmares of here and now, and then show me what life is for.
Redemption is the sinner's plan but guilt is on a tactile mission.
Freedom is bliss found in an open mind which is spurred by imagination...