Archive
07/05/11 - (2)
Counting Down
Even when I was six, seven, nine, and counting... Counting what? My lucky stars? My blessings? My pocket change? Counting down, from ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, To the commencement of the end, the catafalque fall of the Berlin Wall? The DMZ wall dividing North and South Korea? The white-black/blue-gray wall between the North and the South? The Great Wall of China? The Butter Battle Book's long, curving wall?
Even when I was sixty, seventy, ninety, and counting... Counting what? The decades passing too fast, to measure? Counting the days flashing and fading out Like meteors hurtling through the atmosphere, just miles from Earth? Counting Muhammad Ali down-for-the-count of his greed? Counting George Soros, Donald Trump, Bill Gates, Warren Buffet, Down for the count of their red, white, and blue blood cells?
Even when I was Old Testament Moses, Methuselah, counting, counting... Counting what, if not the outer extremities of my mortality? Counting the possibilities of my reaching eternity's eternity?... Even then, counting on blind faith, to pull me through, All my spiritually inspired holy psyche knew how to do Was pray that grace might save me from a faith worse than fate, Keep me counting on my salvation, to be death's nemesis.
Even now, when the beginning and the end of everlasting nothingness Marks the incipience of whatever's left of the rest of my essence And counting down no longer seems to make any difference And counting myself out of life Is the noblest exercise my no-count soul is capable of deciphering... Even now, counting down, from zero to below time's bone marrow, May be the only thing that counts, as my unaccountable days count down.
07/05/11 - (2)
|
|||
|
|||
