Someone once asked the question, If I am eager to do what is good then who can I harm? Did they not hear the interesting news that the sun rose through the horizon and into the sky without any aid? I called a friend in search of numbers pleasing to the eye only to learn that the letter I submitted for recognition had been destroyed because the issue was dead and no longer used by those who were afraid to dance. I wish there will be an announcement forthcoming about the self-imposed resignation of those who failed to follow the fixed paths of their own plans. And, I hope for the moment when embraces are placed at the top of all personal agendas.
I turn the thoughts and prayers of journals written decades ago into these poems and hope with more attention and accommodation I do not wander off into the despair always waiting at the end of the previous evening's talk. The piece of learning I always hope for comes from the awareness that toes will always be stepped on even in the midst of the dance where everyone knows the next turn is to the middle. I am reminded of the paradox of fire where bringing life whirls in the midst of the turning of what is alive to hopeful ashes.
To be released from the search for constant bedazzlement into a rest area along the road I have been walking for years. To cease contriving false romances with those things I do not own and will never have in my back pocket. To get out from under the bright lights of the big city and move, slowly, into a dusk where I can stretch.
I said, "I just finished reading a good summation of the quagmire we appear to be in." She said, "This has been a rough time with insurgents demanding peace shouting to be heard." I asked, "With 'Failure is not an option' as an option can any of us survive the fall of our personal empires?" She answered, "Not without casualties to crystallized emotions and creating powerful memories." I asked another question, "Can sober persons holding pre-eminent positions of power hold the center?" She replied, "A similar dilemma can be found in the hearts of those who stand outside in the corridors of hope."
I said, "The conversation at last night's party showed happiness lives in the minds of the decadent few." She said, "Yes. It also revealed the desperate need to create possibilities for new pools of laughter." Thinking aloud, I said, "The beginning of wisdom is just a monster of a text to digest in one gathering." She replied, "Human beings have been gathering for hundreds of thousands of years in dark spaces." I added, "And feverishly painting animals on the walls of caves and cheering on their favorite teams." She said, "Hope only appears to narrow when those places are closed and decay into the ruin that time brings."
Promiser of Promised Promises, promise us forever, for some die young and many live afraid and all want to live just one more day. Amen.
The hubris that one can control their own resurrection and the hiddenness of the virus make need more visible. Sometimes aesthetic sense fails to develop even in the hardest times so perhaps God is theology's greatest invention. We do not recognize that we continue to benefit from the shameful history of our ancestors. When the center is on fire engage the periphery for choosing where to begin carries a great deal of power. We argue about what we care about attempting to get our story straight and inviting the hope of hopes into hopelessness.