Paradigm Lift, Twist And Shout

Instead of that afterlife idea

Espoused by some if not many,

Or the equally believed articles of faith

In either a murky nothingness or a certain

Return to the planet as a new character

In a novel plot, I prefer to imagine

A very big room about the girth of Nebraska

That’s filled with the dead, the living

And the not-yet-born. This motley trinity

Sweetly shuffling together in stocking feet,

Sometimes raucously, at others' silently

Across a shimmering vast dance floor.

They’re telling corny jokes, laughing

And beaming, this wild inclusion their core meaning;

Feeling so much lighter now, they twist

To Chubby Checker, fox trot to Sinatra,

And waltz to Mr. Mozart. Past hurts,

Let-downs and betrayals one day

Surely to transpire are released completely.

Even wallflowers blossom here in the sparkling air.

Smells of freesia and alyssum swirl,

Entwined with tendrils of night-blooming jasmine
Kissing pregnant air; my lips can feel babies

Kicking. When I’m quiet I hear our breathing

Softly wafting as we spin and sashay round 

And round without perspiring

To lift each other up in tender spirals

Streaming high and higher—

Beloved past, bright-eyed future

All embraced by those now present,

Without clocks ticking.

And everyone is gleaming….