Rarely what there will be then

When the final drop
is wrested from the hell-scorched
bowels of an earth clinging
to what it has, and which
we mortal, animate souls
should have never approached
the sinking sensation of
society,
frenzied in what there is
now, and rarely
what there will be then
will rise from their stupor
and see that despite
previous reports
we cannot eat sand
and sun-blasted stone

One day

Perhaps one day
fog breaks
to bring forth sunbeams
eagerly queueing behind
slate-grey veils
instead of naked judgement
cutting a path
with fire and shattering force

Will, one day in the distant future
when my body has decayed
to feed a cypress tree
overlooking the churning, roiling surf
one day,
will those that find the Earth
as my kind bequeathed,
flaws and all
discover in a meadow
of overpowering green
the last of the rusted rifles
that we once used to commit
societal suicide

One day, will “one day”
cease to be an idea

and become
one day.

Everything else

Today is the first day of
the rest of your life;
said
as if
that is some sort
of profound
commencement wisdom

So comes the future
hurtling
at the speed of time
unavoidable unless
you have handy access
to a starship
that sees all space
relativistically

We exist
we have existed
and
we’re going to die;
everything else
is liable to change

Today is the first day
of the rest of everything else.

The first day of the rest of your life

Yesterday the last of my college responses came. For the last four years I’ve been in and out of junior college, dealing with a bipolar disorder that was resisting treatment. Besides that, I realized in the fall of 2009 that the prep school utopia was not for me- I couldn’t switch from pressure cooker high school to a pressure cooker college, on to a pressure cooker career. That was a road with an unhappy conclusion. But I felt ready to try to transfer.

I got into all the places I had applied. When I first applied to colleges out of high school, I visited one and bought a lovely heavy long-sleeved shirt with the name on the front. When I did not get into that particular school, it always felt a bit strange (though the shirt was lovely and I couldn’t throw it away). This year when I visited my favored place I got a hoodie and played the same game of chicken. I’m glad it’s a reminder of what could be in the future, rather than a past hope.

There’s a comforting haze when the schools have yet to respond. The paperwork for the next step of my life was filed, but the mystery keeps it all from sinking in. I’m going somewhere in September to try for a degree. The junior college limbo period has ended; I’ve picked up enough pieces now, and in the process figured out what I need and what I can live without.

The commencement speech cliche that ‘today is the first day of the rest of your life’ hits home. Of course, that’s true for every day, but only at certain points does the perspective of that quote resonate.

Informed of their collapse

The tome of the past;
Is sometimes written as a symphony, though in a key;
Long forgotten and buried under the gathered silt;
Of progress, of war, of the sheer brutality of time;

Year Zero often comes subtly;
When the sun emerges from below dew-drenched hills;
And things are not quite what they were before;
A new age is not always proclaimed by a revolutionary;
To thunderous applause;
Nations are not always told of their golden age;
Or informed of their collapse;

When the academics unearth my time;
What great men will be moulded?;
What villains will be cast?
And what role will I play in this;
Production of three acts?

As the sand falls

If I came upon an hourglass;
Where time flowed from what could;
To what is, then to what was once;
And held in my open palm the sand;
Of joy, sadness, loss, and redemption;
Would I want to know what story the grains;
Yet to fall would tell?;
Or would I wait for time to etch;
The story of my life, where each chapter;
Held but mere foreshadowing of the next;
And was the author, the emperor of recluses, preparing for an;
Eleventh-hour twist?