The Universe’s Mall Locator
Category Archives: The Liminal Times
Tin Pulpit
Fawn not upon the mighty.
Tremble not upon hollow fury.
Stand instead in the quiet field,
where wind bends grass
and crows argue from fenceposts.
The world makes its own weight,
but your breath is yours.
Walk with that knowledge.
Carry no borrowed fear.
Bow only to the earth
that feeds you,
and to the hand
that loves you still.
Let the dogs race ahead,
snouts full of scent,
tails carving the air.
Let the squirrel chatter
from its tin roof pulpit.
You owe no reply.
Your task is simpler:
to rise with the day,
to speak clear,
to leave behind
nothing that will shame the dust.
Finite(in)
We are given a handful of years
in a place that does not end.
A body that wears out,
in a universe that does not tire.
We fall in love,
we grieve,
we build homes of wood and laughter,
all while the galaxies wheel above us
like they have for billions of years.
The stars don’t notice.
The earth will go on.
So meaning is not in them,
but here:
in the touch of a hand,
in the courage of hope,
in the choice to rise each morning
knowing how little time
is ours to claim.
