A sandwich for the meditator’s open hands

Something for nothing

And nothing from something

or nothing from nothing

but a vault in the sky.

Or a sky that’s a vault

With treasures told.

 

The lie of pandora’s box.

A distraction as the ornate designs

On the walls of deception

Start to move and people realize

The garden is dangerous now.

 

God makes them leave

And we say serves them right

But God says

Serves them right

To not eat more bad apples.

 

And then there is a bucket of candy

That no one expected

For me to tell a real story

Of an actual day in the park.