Category Archives: The Evidentialism Files

Evermore

Forrest City Evermore
They asked how long you’d like to live.
You said, a little more.
They all say more.
As if forever were a sunrise
you could pocket.

But forever is not light—
it’s the absence of endings.
No curtains.
No finales.
Just a sky so wide
it forgets your name.

The faithful call it heaven,
a kingdom without clocks,
where no one dies
and no one leaves.
But even gardens rot
when no one’s allowed
to shut the gate.

You will pray
for hunger.
For grief.
For something
that hurts.
Because hurt is proof
you still belong
to something fleeting.

But in forever,
you outlive your gods.
Outlast your sins.
You become
the last echo
in a chapel
that will not collapse.

What is the reward
in a story
that caanot end?

And So It Goes

Oak Forest And So It Goes

The wind knows something we don’t.
We bloom,
badly sometimes,
in places never meant for gardens.
And so it goes.

A boy outgrows his favorite lie.
A girl paints a sun where the sky won’t stay.
And so it goes.

Somewhere, a mother packs away a crib.
A father turns down the hall light—
out of memory, not anger.
And so it goes.

We touch each other
like pages we’ve dog-eared—
to remember,
because we once did.

The coffee cools.
The dog sighs.
The dead leave fingerprints
on poems we try to finish.
And so it goes.

Still, the moon insists,
rising like it doesn’t care who left.
Or maybe because it does.

We keep dancing
on unsteady knees,
offbeat and too late,
but together.
And so it goes.

Joy slips in through grief’s back door.
A song plays
and we sing along,
knowing the lyrics will end.
And so it goes.

And still—
we go.