Not Then, Not Now

I find no peace in knowing death

does not exist. The myth of rest.

We leave here knowing less than we will learn, 

once spirits conflate. As measures of music 

fuse into compositions yet unsung. 

Beyond individuals sculpted 

and perfumed, who in life made us 

breathless with desire. Individuals 

whose separateness is now ground

into sand grains stretched before a rushing sea. 

There may be acres of gum trees, irises 

and lavender fields that hover without 

the bounds of body, infectious 

personalities for better or worse.  

No vows, just difficult spiritual 

work. Intention turned eternity. 

Why can’t I accept this stark reality

as opposed to the taught myth of 

tabula rasa, ex post fictive 

level playing field, expunged? No lunging 

toward the void, no longer a treasure 

chest of reward for time served. Time does not 

exist. Not then, not now.