Saturday, November 12, 2011

As It Is Today


I could speak of the cosmos,
The destinations of God.

But that thing is broken
And that one not running well.

The wallet on my dresser
Is like a brown and fat Thanksgiving bird,
Stuffed full with crumbs of plastic
And varied business cards,
With very little nourishment
For the bellies of our lives.
What we can call empty calories
In the parlance of the times.
Its appearance may look heavy,
But in subsistence it is lean.

I cannot fix the broken thing,
What if the other fails?

There is a foundation
Long poured and set in stone.
We cannot change the footings,
We can only trim the home.

I leave what went before
To the history it is made of
And hope the present situation
Doesn’t shake my destinies with God.

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