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Present Tense
An existence
culminates
from the weight
of its own removal:
a hole
exposed,
once dirt is unearthed
where birth
is not fully defined
or grasped
until the clasp
of death.
I wonder then, what’s left:
how to make these finite rhymes
resonate
with a more eternal chime.
We made God,
who somehow made us.
The circular logic would not sustain:
an overarching claim
that undermined our intelligence.
But maybe relevance
is a façade.
Meaning devised
to bolster significance
of the present tense.
