what if this is it
what if now and never are the same
what if rising and falling are inconsequential
coming and going are parallel,
production and inertia, twinned
we pinch, jab,
riddles and illumination
tucked under the arm of
fantasy and fate.
meaning is applied
while love is known
i can’t seem to write a paragraph anymore.
order and exposition bent
in silvery clouds and
all i can conjure
is phrase and
and what if it is all random jest, anyway?
the marvelous beloved is everything.
what if blessing is question
god in the gesture.
glory in the gaze.
in all this far-off wondering
the hummingbird that just flew outside the door.
(my girl is now 18, graduating high school today. i have honestly loved every moment. sentimental? yes. nostalgic? yes. regrets? sure. proud beyond measure? absolutely. ready? yes. because she is.)