Living

Some people scream and shout.
Some people curse the skies.
Some people live in defiance of the the limitations.
Some people demand answers.
Some people are much too preoccupied with everyday existence,
To probe or ponder, much less question.
Others simply, breathe in each ounce of each new day.
Refusing to contemplate what cannot be.

But notice or not, it looms.
Mortality mortered in immortality.
Within the heights and depths of heaven and Earth,
Sparkling, shimmering, speaking . . .
Circling, rotating, consuming all,
Comfortably defiant,
Like a new born infant,
Present, miraculous, normal.

An old man dies alone . . .
Is it in the knowledge of today,
The silence of tomorrow,
Or in the loss of yesterday,
That we wonder,
That we demand,
That we die to know what cannot be known.
Or die to relive yesterday?

Finality existing within infinality.
We shall overcome . . . someday.
Forever and ever . . .
One breath away . . . one more revolution.
Out of sight . . . out of mind.