Past tense envelops
the dream
Memory no longer
retrieved, cannot be seen
In the center of the public eye I watch
the youth play its guilty part in the unfolding
of the world’s drama. I weep for its antics,
drag my expectations across the cracks
and splinters of a bombarded, fraught optimism,
verging on the echo of an ageless battle, a page
burned a thousand times, its remains billowing
across the world, its glowing seeds pulsing
to grow anew, setting life on fire eon after eon and
parent after child, reaching tirelessly toward sky,
future, deliverance, generation
I look out for the end of time,
the beginning of certainty,
wondering, watching, the pen busy,
flame on the page, palimpsest of mind
and memory,
inscribing will’s course
on combustible platforms
The chronicle guides us:
Recorded for posterity and reference
supposed to survive the tests of time,
endure and contribute to our education,
left behind for the curious and inquisitive,
a sign – writing on the pulp wall along which
we travel in search of the shadow
that confirms the light – a star in blank space,
a whisper on the digital platform
an assurance we’re on the right track,
on our way to a peace of mind always
striven for, against all hope, pursuing
clemency, the reprieve mentioned in the
blazing books of insight and revelation,
our files corrupted over time, our commitment
holding up even as the structures
fall in the great pyres
When walls and firewalls collapse,
our way of life a piece of meat too close
to the flames for comfort,
our vanity, like bonfires at night,
speak of our need to pave our way
with the remains of the dead
We keep what suits us
and consume the rest
Some of the knowledge is salvaged,
books and writings are retrieved from the debris
their contents handed down
by word of mouth, from ear to ear,
from generation to generation and student to sage,
from forgiveness to fury and back to
forgiveness,
and back to rage, ad infinitum,
those willing to discover what is to transpire
according to the lore of future past
jumping in the fire with sweet abandon