(Image is representation of one of the Lord Ganesha's hands holding a yellow modak, symbolizing spirituality.)

He wakes - opening his eyes to a welcomed day.
Through the leaden fug of inebriation
He contemplates the situation present
And asks himself
Wasn't I supposed to thank the Universe for these...
These opportunities for fresh assault?

A breeze billows out the greyed window spinnaker 
Bringing the tang of burned hair and skin
Upon it's light smokey carrier.
And from his high residency
The mournful bells are agonising screams
Assaulting the opportunity for breath.

Sudden realisation awakens his consciousness,
And he is at once truly well aware
That what he senses with old teeth and nails
Are false manifestations.
False manipulations by demon hosts
Whose desire is to encapsulate his soul.

Light or dark no longer pose a choice,
For light can contain mendaciousness
As easily as a dark force can be divine,
And in the divining of his way ahead
He chooses the smooth silky endlessness
of darkness that he alone can illuminate.

"May your creator bless you forever"
Echos through his mind - ripples in space -
As he opens up his heart to encompass
The unbelievable comfort and soft manna
That fill his wholeness, every single part,
And they fit him like Lord Ganesha's hands.

© Griffonner 2026