This heaven, the other one, not
the one you thought you would be sucked into,
wants your eternal time to build the fence
everyone dead has been erecting; some
say its length measures infinity, albeit
one insider whispers, «It keeps heaven
from heaven; it separates the absolute
and the peace.» «I am no builder.» You shout.
«You’ve built the scenario from nothing.»
Someone says. You begin to shake a can and
spray time’s graffiti on the part they have finished.
LatinosUSA 
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