Monday, September 2, 2019



Paradigm Shift, 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 definite
Return to the planet as a new character
In a novel plot, I prefer to imagine

A grand 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 in their wild inclusion;
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, injuries
Of all sorts one day surely to transpire
Are released completely here where
Everyone perspires scent of peppermint.

Smells of freesia and alyssum swirl,
Entwined with tendrils of night-blooming jasmine
Kissing pregnant air; my lips can feel babies
Kicking in the joyous twirl.

Even wallflowers blossom in this sparkling air.

When I’m quiet I hear our breathing softly wafting
As we spin and sashay round 
And round without tiring
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….

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