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07/24/12 - (1)
Failing Mission
Though you're now seventy-one years ancient And the anno Domini in which you languish Has already thrust upward or plummeted itself (Depending on how you view it, Through both ends of your twin Hubble telescopes) A dozen years into the miasmal nebulae Of the post–Christian-Crucifixion third millennium,
You've yet to triangulate and get a fix on, Let alone fathom, your birth's late-life trajectory, In its obsolete Mercury/Gemini/Apollo space capsule, Envision the nature and dimension of the mission Which your psyche's liquid-oxygen tanks Are fueling, inseminating, wombing, cradling, powering, Amidst the greater cosmos's position-paper politics —
The dying promise of your existential presence, The dimming manifestation of your heavenly light, As your vessel explores your gray matter's inner space, In search of the elusive, inscrutable source of being, That ineluctable beacon-voice, your tiny "I am," Which keeps beckoning, beseeching your psyche Deeper, deeper into the beyond beyond beyond.
07/24/12 - (1)
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