Passports

Cusco 2000.  I sat and studied baptism.

I wrote on copy paper my notes.

As well as the Holy Ghost.

But everything I grow I throw away.

Everything I build I destroy.

So am I.

 

And as I study baptism, I realize

Tis Death.

A burial in the water, symbolic

Although arising, in truth dying.

A watery grave.

As ships that sink at sea.

And the Holy Ghost whispers as one dies,

This is who you really be.

And  that is the end.

The job of the Keeper of the Gate.

Do you want in?

Passports, please.

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