A note on the end of the world

So close, yet so far. Photo by Anthony Citrano, flickr

Tomorrow, it is said, the world will end
and with it go long DMV lines,
taking off your shoes at airports, trying to
speak with the service reps in India.

Tomorrow, we've been told, the world will end
and take along its heartbreaks, large and small --
its dying kids, its bloody wars, the fears
that seep and creep beneath our dull routines.

Tomorrow. That's the date the world will end.
Yet so will evening walks and long road trips,
first kisses, last goodbyes, the million songs
we've yet to hear or write or partner up for.

Tomorrow, it is said, the world will end.
But not for me. Not for the hope I hid
under my bed, or for the joy I stashed
in mason jars last fall. And not for love.

Never for love.

Mere worlds cannot end that.

Prayer #234: Appointment

God beyond all day planners:

Deign to work in terms I understand, and circle a date for me when I can start fresh. Except ... not completely fresh, mind you, because I didn't know anything when I started the first time around, and I had to learn as I went, and I'm pretty sure that's where I ran into trouble.

Except ... maybe not completely in the know, either, because I have enjoyed discovering life as I go (for the most part), and I run into adventure as much as danger (for the most part), and I like to think there's more of that in store.

So ... circle a date. Not for a reckoning or a rapture, mind you (that seems a bit extreme), but more for an evaluation. A touchbase. A "hey, how you doing, what's next" sort of thing.

If it's on my calendar, I'll be there. I hope You will too.

Until then ...