Promises of the Morrow

Sometimes I go back and forth between the universe always was or

There is a non-interactive deity spurring creation on the axis of science and the volition

Of beings capable of manifesting choice beyond instinct

We are in the axis, whether either is a valid provable fact given empirical evidence

Of this time’s recollection, for if it is able to be proven, surely it was proven before

By others in a time on a continuum some distance from this in breathes,

But tangent, always tangent in consciousness, that proximity is the dearest radiance

Of what I once imagined to be the love of God

I see: the billboards, the posts, the tax deductions, and the revivalist literature

I cannot move beyond the power of wishful thinking

What we want over what we need or simply is

We can meander consequence to a plan beyond our knowing; divine implications

When death, pain, anger, despair, loneliness, heartache, wind their ways to strangle

Those Hallmark-card dining-room-table loves, embraces, joys, felicitous rewards

Of obedience, credence, faith, fidelity, and wholesome tomes recited

I see the fallacies of volition’s mandate strangling the dalliance of heaven’s garb and hell’s cloak

“I am a breathing time machine.  I’ll take you all for a ride.”

The universe reverberates in each of us like the kick-drum’s measure

Beyond cardiac pulses into schisms of what it means to exceed the speed of light

When we return to our former measure of energy dispersed and dancing

In the plasma of an un-forming and re-forming universe to birth and die into another

Over millennia and I am imagining my iteration absent the pronoun for I take no purchase

No receipt or deed to this body as a severable unit of volition in this time or that,

But of interconnected always operating my configuration to be reconfigured

I give you this waltz for sixty, for eighty revolutions, or less of a solar orb

To do and to embrace this one to write, to read, to sing, to paint, to speak, and above all to love

For there is no promise of the morrow, only a vast acknowledgment of what we are

Able to do here, that we are limited there and so I embrace my current limitations

With gleeful possibility and mercurial sadness as to my tiny time here

So I do the daring do; to make the most of this sunrise and oh yes, above all love