If those Encounters too frequent to recall

Were of any importance and meaning at all

Slits of Sight into the Realm of Light

Unhatched chicks peeping the Sky so bright

What was the Real Mystery?

Not ghosts shadowing the Old story

Or, this Terrestrial Life was so sorry

So cripple and blind grappling in Misery

Yes, you could be rich or feeling merry

But ghosts of uncertainties haunting your memory

What you could do after dinners

Watching the Screens of All Sinners?

The Sin of not attending the open wide Space

To orientate your Travel and pinpoint your Place

Death was not the Real Astonishment

It was only Changing the Channel of the Moment

Because Life was an Infinite Continuum

In thousands of years you're still the Premium

What was the Real Mystery?

If you could not mend History

You surely able to hang dry the Laundry

Try to do the Best and better the Ordinary

By Good Doings we're Praying the Mystery, straight and sure

That was the Real Holy Mystery, clean and pure!