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….