Our Universe: a Reaction to Phrasing Questions

 I was unintentionally eavesdropping on two mothers speaking

Outside the door of my office as I was inserting electronic workpapers

The younger in her late twenties said to the older in her early seventies

“When I do not drop off my daughter at school, sometimes

I worry with all these shootings.” 

I thought in my head about absence

What I might feel like and I guess I worry in my own way,

But not so much about death, part of me senses that I have already

Experienced a few pieces of life that are existentially probably worse than death 

I am not certain entirely as I am still living and

The most fundamental of human frets is as definitive to me as any other person,

Which is to say unknown 

I find myself compelled to consider what is the point of life,

As I have contemplated this other grand question far more than that of

What happens after we die 

In my iterations I have seen the poignancy of peace, love, and interconnection

Of the echoing inherent damage or affirmation we do in our choices affecting others,

Not booming at the others, but into ourselves for we are one  

I have seen this and expounding on this premise far more in other writings

And feel no need to revisit beyond this mission statement if you will 

So in, when a parent is fearing the death of their offspring;

I can relate to this trepidation, but at the end of the sentiment it is ultimately

Selfish to genetic ego and thus a reflection infected with narcissism

Which demotes the quandary’s rank below that of so many others 

What brings to me to this effrontery on such pillars of the Lifetime or Oxygen Networks

Is that the death of a child is circumstantial and often out of the parent’s direct control

To inject true philosophical trump insert choice into the matter and then we can sit

In the chair of true human life teetering between the spectrum of our purpose 

That is a scale of density; and so is to elect to keep pacing forward

When one’s totality is cauterized to extract the preponderance of purpose

One has placed in a partner based on the viral nature of trust in pair bonding

At the dividing-surgery of conjoined spiritual-beings the bifurcation is rarely equitable 

So in only thirteen percent of what a human is may be retained

The opposing party may have fifty-seven or forty-six and

The remainder between the thirteen by the one and whatever measure

Insufficient to sum to a total of one hundred between them 

Is lost forever into the annals of time

As if a black hole had drank the memories with its gravity to appear on a mirror

Between the two; neither can consider the percentage as part of themselves,

Nor of the other party, but each is hauntingly aware that such a remnant exists

In such an unalterable state affixed at the moment of separation  

It is a payment of sorts as compensation for the pressures of love

And the flat black silence of absence

Often in this mathematical formula of beings; choice operates the same way

Choice like the memories bifurcates quite disproportionately  

In many cases choice operates like a proton and an electron ramming towards

A nucleus that no longer is inhabitable

One is propelling itself away, while the other is busting its sphere

Attempting to re-enter 

These two operations can also have disproportional half-lives

Creating a disturbance of un-captured energies which may require eons

To rebalance, as the universe will inevitably reconcile, not as if the proton

Will revert its nature to elect a negative in the future to achieve neutrality 

But that the neutrality of the self will be found internally,

By the proton seeing that it simply quit ramming its entry and be static

To reverberate in consciousness that true peace is in the acceptance of identity

Then and only then is choice reacquired, but until this revelation  

Choice floats into its own black hole like the memories,

Only this one forms inside one’s own system and as formed by internal directive

Its reverse envelopment can be achieved by internal directive

This is the power of the mind, the superego defending  

At some point the galaxies clear to see the haze of atoms, bursting nebula

And time itself slowed to the subtle shake of a stilled nucleus

Knowing we are all one