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Yet [*/+/^] : 27.225 MHz, Some Final Measures; *And All His Acquaintance*
I must confess, last night was sleepless, full of doubt,
full of too many questions, too many musing about
the hope that arises from a presumptive expectation:
I think I am frightened of the possibility
that we will experience an even more crushing frustration.
Yes, this is the woeful whispering of sin's perfidy,
the kind that likes to give a man's soul a twisted wrench.
I remind myself of the previous, undeniable three:
that little girl, and the young man outside Nain;
and Lazarus---four days in the grave with a stench.
The query that nags me the most makes me feel ignorant,
even stupid, as it lingers, entirely adamant:
I am neither philosopher nor scientist---but tell me, how can
the very fabric of the whole Cosmos change in a single lifespan?
J-Called
[*/+/^]
