By Jack Kerouac
In his jests serious, in his murders victim,
or which, is God? Who began
before non-existence"s dependence
on existence, Who came before
the chicken and the egg
Who started out
enormous Light
The dark brillianceof the Mystery
For all good hearts to shroud inside
and keep their understanding sympathy
intact as Beethovens courageous
slow sigh.
In his atrocities victim?
In his jests damned?
In his damnation damnation?
Or is God just the golden hover
light manifesting Mayakaya
the illusion of the moon, branches
across the face of the moon?
O perturbing swttlontaggek
montiana godio
Thou high suffermaker!
Tell me now, in Your Poem!
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