Inside the Mountain of Souls of the Dead

((Impressions inside the Mountain of Souls of the Dead) (I suppose you can say, I looked death in the eyes, were all were dead inside this mountain, according to human earth understandings; or so the philosophers might say; or argue. And when death got too close to me, the angels banished them away, and I felt fresh again like a shot of penicillin. I wanted to say they all, seemed to look a bit mentally retarded, or having a mental illness, but it wasn't that, it was-one of the angelic beings whispered into my ear, unseeingly-soul sickness.
I felt-in this enclosure type setting-enclosed deep into a wooden drawer, shut tight, yet not forgotten, like the dead souls around me. I am sure the millions upon millions of souls here couldn't help but rummage through their brains, as I was, but not for the same purpose they were, completely, I would leave this place shortly, but they, yes, they were looking for a spiritual map to get them out of here, rummaging to find one, and of course there was not at the end of the trail. And I saw and heard, the many images came and go, to scorn me; deflated, sucking screams, panic spells))
((Impressions Inside the Prison House of Angels)(By the Canyon of Pain, my first impression was, or I should say, that came over me was, a reddish, and orange, and purple thickness existed within the atmosphere, a fog inside this cosmic vault. Being in war, Vietnam, in 1971, it reminded me of artillery fire all around me, and then came images, faces that snarled, I presumed warlords of a bygone era, now just rotten burlap swaying in a ripple of time. They had only rusty sabers to hold on to.))