The Mourning
It will all be better in the morning but the morning never comes.
Tossing turning head churning thoughts war with feelings and the morning never comes.
Shadows and reflections of memories of things to come.
Grow and multiply as they slip farther from the sun.
In the morning it will be better when the dark of night is done.
The only thing that can hurt me is my mind’s unsettling run.
It will all be better in the morning but the morning never comes.
It will all be better for the mourning but in the end mourning is God’s living sun.
When I wake in the morning God’s gifts are set and done.
It will all be better in the morning but the morning never comes.
That big empty space in which we all live that pulses with the echo of God.
The hand that made me also guides me and the primal wave drives me
We recreate our realities every instant like the tide racing from the future to catch the past.
What preceded is decedent and the future is an echo of the past.
What came before us is what we leave behind.
It lives for an instant but it’s only in our mind.
Did it happen or will it be? That is what God put us here to find.
(2015)
testing how this thing sorts
