Much as anything else in this fiction
Of ourselves being the limit of living
While giving up on believing or even
Receiving messages from beyond a
Din of our iniquities broadcast out to
An infinity we scarcely comprehend
To which some of us are trying to get
Back again following the crumbs on
The path so evident in their reverent
Resonance that we have to wonder
Why everyone doesn’t notice the full
Splendor cast along every tether with
No sound except the frequency from
Going around this life with that love

We once had before we forgot to
Look up and within and beyond the
Projection of separation that makes
This part of the ride seem so solid
That it can hold up even to obvious
Flaws for the oblivious to ignore and
Others to assure them that they too
Are also you and part of the true art
Of being just in time for this old dance
Filled with the music of remembrance
While the credits roll on this journey

—

NOTE: I have no idea. Really: I’m all out, used up, rock bottom, tapped, kicked, spent, blotto. Actually that gives me an idea … damn. Not getting away that easy.