We revel in endings: discoveries, marriage,
raptures, death, and definitive answers.
But wherefore the questions?
We search for meaning everywhere, in everything.
Why? Because we have no meaning within us?
Nothing to contribute to the world?
Meaning is given. It’s an act of generosity, of contrition
against our terrible beginnings. We build up the world
then tear it back down; only in the third act, when
redemption is sought, does meaning become relevant.
What do you have to answer for (even if only imagined)?
What broken faith? Helpless fear?
When will the doubtful ocean crash into an endless seeming
confluence of particulate ideas, settle into an everlong
beach lapped onto only by curiousity?
Answer . . . ?
If you must not fail, you will not fail.
No matter how the story goes,
For lie or truth
You stand giant amidst it all
Circling through unknowable clocks then upward:
Expression always has light-years to go.
Copyright 2012 by Michael Marsters.
All rights reserved.