putting back

yesterday morning before the treeline rolled the mist back
and the four-way down the street quieted as rush-hour traffic abated,
i found my resolve, pocketed the iphone, and sallied forth

there's a hush that manifests in the neighborhood as the kids are dropped at school
and the garbage trucks are well on their way ~
a peace in pieces that grows and settles
like a dewed-moss-prayer rug east to west north to south up and down front and back;
god's waited blanket

and it's clear that the waiting is a pending
the pending is a force
the force is a prescriptive
pointing me
to hope

deep in the prefrontal cortex shame and guilt settle in for a catnap and
dopamine and serotonin waltz and shuffle to a score that is part Strauss, part Peterson, and part Springsteen

i begin

~

at first god and i are somehow looking at and through each other,
then S(he) leapfrogs into That which cradles consensus reality,
teases it apart, and shows me the holes in her whole
and while seeing god's vulnerabilities can be more breathtaking than
breath giving, inspiration is still still on tap
like a lager from back in the days
when I could partake

drunk in the spirit I bounce up and off tree lined streets into moon lined skies,
look down at the little blue and white pearl awash in the expanse of space
and begin addressing god's missing pieces

i reach into the iphone's six thousand photos
download the rest from the cloud
and one by one, put every single picture back

that sunset shot
that selfie
that family portrait
those 400 dog shots

each and every group of pixels dropped through the noosphere
onto the biosphere and into the physiopshere
and when I'm done I'm pulled even farther back,
our pale blue home an eye of the living god
holding hands with all the mystics and saints and other gods

and somehow, THAT group becomes but a prayer shawl on god's-god:
Source,
Tao,
awareness,
grace
love

god exhales,
and in spite of myself
i am Won

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