What does it mean when strangers call to say,
I’m sorry for your loss and when can we
possess what’s vacant now? What, anyway,
is “sorry for your loss” supposed to be
in worlds where piled people slide on past
and alligators climb glass walls to dash
across cement black-tarred at child dressed
in T where puffy dino roars on chest?

From creatures trooped in shared realities,
Once grouped in bands of twelve to oh say twenty-five:
What mean we here in pluralities
some billion strong,
in towns where millions throng
in bustles moving, mooded — seemingly alive?
What mean we here with fleeting empty hugs?
Some kind of love? Smile with shoulder shrug,
explaining, “Just the price we must all pay
for evolving in interesting new ways;
and anyway, who wants to stay forever stuck
in narrow gods, cares, answers, looks and lucks?

What do you say? You’re better than me and mines?
Less savage? Wiser? wider, deeper? More?
What ho?, hello! A noble savage steps the line!
Stars ‘bove, passions ’round, Love within: same for
you micro-, tele- scoped, computer-yoked
and
we time-popped, earth-, sun-, rain-, fire-soaked.

We’re part of who we know
our bands our human-homes
We’re part of what we “know”
our reality-domes.

But only God is fully known
to mortals. And then but through
a darkly-glass is Godlight shown
And all we feel, think, say or do
is either God as First Cause or God
as proximate cause — God as Bod,
not God as soul. God as scud,
not God as thinking joy-ing Love.

Then well we’re met and well we’ll part
to strange ends you, and me to stranger starts.

Author: BW
Editor: AW
Copyright: AMW