Future imperfect

God saw all that he had made,

and it was — incomplete. He gazed

on a savanna of sparse trees and tracks,

and a horizon of hazy, rucked up mountains,

shelved any plans to frame his work, and

began his trek to an as yet unknown rest. 

Hide and seek

The playful one
     hiding in myriad dancing sparks,
     exploding trails of possibility –

We seek, confident,
     but confound finding with naming:
     lepton, superstring, quark...

We hide from pain and loss;
     the pierced one seeks:
     consenting to the robe's tugged hem,
     the forlorn hope,
     that fearfully and wonderfully endures.

Old Father Time

What are you, Old Father Time?

An ancient mugger, lurking round the corner,

Skeletal gaze peeping from monkish hoodie,

Scythe raised with menace, waiting, eager

To cut our hopes and dreams to shreds?

Or are you just a kindly guide?

Nudging us down our appointed track;

An usher, touching the small of the back, 

Ensuring we take our final seat.

Or do you, indifferent as the tide, 

Watch the birth and death of stars,

While pulled by a current we can’t resist, 

We drift into the drowning dark?