on the cusp of evening.
how can i be present in a world where
even the moon starts appearing while
it's still light out? who does he think he is?
it seems that there is always something else
beckoning me from any given moment, causing
this one to be sliced to shreds before my eyes.
the telephone lines that once framed and
underlined the sky's most valuable parts are
now nothing more than razor blades that have
cut to bits this one giftly sight. the clouds'
magnificence has become obscured by the
ever-pesky moon and have been tread upon
by the waxing night. how then, again i ask,
do i remain focused when even the slightest
sliver begs me to forget where i am and
concentrate on what is yet to come?
and what is the difference between
preparing for and obsessing over the future?
perhaps it is not a matter of here-or-there
that is at hand. perhaps it must be one of
here-then-there. these azure heights have
not yet abandoned this day. the cerulean
backdrop is still the setting of this instant.
with breath and thanksgiving for this life
and all its worries, i turn with joy to
the sun of righteousness who makes ready
all those who with faith sojourn into night.
I'm gladdened by this project. Thank you.
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