Baby, if I make the soul transition,
please know that your haunting rendition,
of Amy Winehouse's "Love is a Losing Game"
will replay in my mind on my cosmic journey
before me,
is the rest of my life, or maybe just one more night,
not tryin' to sound churchy,
but you are my Triune love,
Faith, Understanding and Devotion,
and my emotions have always been based on the love quotient,
that you freely give,
Lord knows, I have but one wish to the Creator,
and that is to view
on a continuous loop the first time we made love
Baby, If I make the soul transition
I will remember all of those late night conversations,
ranging from absolute and complete love
to African-Americans current dire situation,
the summation
of my life will be rather brief,
feel me, you are my Devine compensation
for livng a lifetime on the borderlands of Hell,
time will eventually tell
you the prose I pursposly withheld,
I will ask the Supreme to make the oceans swell
and form a perfect heart,
just so you know that my heart always belonged to you
Baby, if I make the soul transition
I will beg the angels to create a caressing composition,
because many times the words I write are not proficient,
enough to encapsulate the wonderful vibe of our time spent,
together, whenever, whatever, wherever
you travel in your lifetime,
I will be there when you are feeling lonely,
to place your hand in mine
Baby, when I make the soul transition,
be I on the express train to heaven or take a detour to Purgatory,
whatever the juxtaposition,
know that being with you, in love with you, making love to you
was a slice of paradise
that prepared me for the Afterlife,
in a world full of mental sickness and racial strife,
you were my healing balm in Gilead
Baby, if I make the soul transition
please know that it was always my intention,
to go before you so I wouldn't have to live without you,
and don't be saddened,
because we shared for a time what many haven't,
and how could they, after all in any perfect recipe,
it's expedient to have the main ingredient,
and unfortunately for them I was the willing and blessed recipient,
of your pure, brown sugar, yes I was
So, make a joyful noise,
lift your pretty head to the sky,
in the event of my early demise,
never question the spirits why,
just remember in your coldest December,
that I will be the warming of the eternal sun,
on the first day of spring,
but while I'm here, please
will you sing
for me