the end has come and gone--

and the only freedom

is the illusion of mind

that lends a continuity

to the fragments of our experience--

the convenience of a finality

with which we comfort ourselves--

the idea of an end--

*

so what now?

what does it matter?

after each culmination

in our varied relationships

we ask what next? what now?

nothing nothing but

a fresh increment

in our continuous saga

where who but the One

knows what next--

*

as well say hello as goodbye--

we disappear from each other--

sometimes for lifetimes at a clip--

only to reappear--

as if we just stepped out for smokes--

*

I do not know and do not care

what reasons you had

for your discourtesy

(after all it's so easy to be friendly

and get what you can out of people

when you can just turn and leave them

when you've gotten it)

but somewhere beyond your justifications

you will know without evasion or illusion

the price you'll owe for that deceit

and then in the One's incomprehensible mercy

you will turn in your privation to those you used

and in their abused sweetness will be

the forgiveness you'll need--if nothing else--

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.