Reflection

Everything is uneasy

There would be something 

Wrong otherwise, so I listen

And I listen to myself 

The fulcrum is his

Blindness

I don’t know yet what that means

And yet, so much I apprehend comes 

Quite alive 

In this: in this darkness everywhere, 

It is an odd convenience that

A crisis comes that we must face, 
Because it is 

Easier to locate the pain of it, 

The blind eye, the damaged port, 

The fearful, rutted roads across 

Salvation’s elusive fields (although 

this doesn’t matter in this lifetime), 

Than face another loss, that one

We can’t describe, although perhaps

It really does not matter. 

What is it that we see in this maelstrom 

Of dark matter, what is it that 

We are not seeing? 

Bewildered. 

Do we see a thing? 

Do we understand the defining 

Tick-tock 

On the clock that will never lose 

One nanosecond

Over this or any other conflagration? 

Do we even matter?

We’ve a glimpse perhaps of goodness, 
Though, a hope that lives and thrives as in the 

Butterfly’s breathless

Seconds, its seconds into life and time, 

And into some vast that 

We will never know

So I say, enact into your human 

Script, although there are 

Stars that beckon 

If you only stop to wander in them, 

Let yourself navigate across the 
Fulsome sky, you know, the one 

There for our taking 

We just have to let it be, 

We are all, the two of us,

The all of us, the 

Bone and breath and sinew of us

The heft and weak and waft of us

The matter of a glorious whole, 

Frail and open, stubborned into

Contrary, fighting for the light and wind, 

Moving through this moment 

Sailing pure, sailing perfect, sailing
Incomplete and fierce, and do you see?

Sailing into the 

Unknown land where 

We find there is no choice 

But to throw our spark of life, 

We now cast off 

For all that’s holy,  

Into the opening space. 

~ December 30, 2018