Passages

The often mis-fortune
of being human
We persistently ask why,
when the understood
answer is assuredly because.
When simply being,
is exchanged for objectives.
Objectives quantified, qualified, validated, disregarded, busyness,
business.

Business of exchange.
Sustenance converted
to a religion of Sum Day.
Every day
hopefully adding up
to when.
When I begin, to be what I’ve become.

There will be the tragedy.
When I’ve become one who
was never really here,
Until it’s over.
This opportunity to be fresh
Renewed.

Drop by moment-ous
drop
of time
siphoned off,
this time limited
experiment with,
the one and only,
the never to be again
existence,
of my existence.

Of which I habitually
didn’t fully
experience (or appreciate).
In lieu of getting
ready.
Even needing a belief
in immortality
as a back-up
to make manifesting
Potential.

A prayer of,
“Thy Kingdom come
Thy will be done”,
Really more a statement of fact.
A request for personal
understanding
of Reality
As is.

Regrettably, more often than not, I have debarred my Divine unfolding.

Til this poem
And other intuitive
biddings, to join
the vast, repetitive
Message of the
Universe.
A Kosmos which comprehends
Without needing to know.
This moment-ous now gone to
make room for
this moment that,
will be replaced,

always forever.
This is not that, this is it.

Joel Jacobs, 2007, All Rights Reserved