You had reasons.
It was something of a convenience,
Borrowed time in which you resolved
A crisis of existentialism.
I had excuses.
And I spent my time
Finding the mind’s inclination for rationality.
Reasons and excuses pushed us forward,
Grew our differences.
Yet sometimes, in stubborn mystery,
It is so difficult to say
Goodbye.
She writes endlessly of
Things concerning faith,
God-this-God-that and she
Has a habit of never
Changing her photograph.
She might remain stuck in
Time as a young woman
While the rest of humanity
Grows and withers away.
Photographs used to age,
Colors bending towards
Non-existence but not
Anymore; post-modernity
Seeks to keep the rich
Alive, euthanizing the
Rest of us but then history
is filled with those who
Did the same, only with
Parchment and clay tablets.
Peter, Paul and Mary once
Reminisced where have
All the young men gone?
She wants to know the same.
Last night she dreamt
Old age is for writing
Deep thoughts on paper,
Youth is for soon-to-be-
Forgotten vanities. She
Awoke to morning doves
Speaking amongst
Themselves of the ancient
Christian Humanist pursuits.
Originally written
12 January 2007
All Is Continuity 