23rd March, 2006
LLOYD HARKNESS


Generations, now, have held to the official line
that our collective soul, ashened,
is destined for some black hole
in impersonal space.
(The pharaoh remains entombed in his pyramid
stuck on the starting blocks.
The emperor and his army are terracotta
and Jesus' mansion is a castle in the air.)

The message stick, sublime and subliminal, is passed on
and the message is a watch, a magicians watch,
ticking, mesmerizing,
while a soft voice croons...
you are an accidental conglomeration of genes winding down to oblivion
going, going _ _ _ _ _
you will embrace flame and smoke and thin air
nothing, nothingness _ _ _ _ _ _ _

And so we're told.
And so it goes.

Yet, we live an anomaly.
We live as those who say
Yep. Okay. We're holding the message stick.
But we do things our way, anyway.

Hope rouses us from sleep.
Faith whispers today will be good.
There will be love and laughter
(perhaps some sighing)
but today will be good...
and if not; well, there is tomorrow.
And we get up.
And we live the day holding moments
the only way a person can hold anything -
in the context of a past and future.
Living by faith.
Living a life of substance.