It All Happened Forever

Scholars say that it rained for a thousand years (forty day and nights being a poetic way of saying same), it is feasible that the oceans began as puddles and pools then the world turned wet. Thomas put his finger in the wound of the crucified Jesus thousands of years later a Roman soldier stands upright bewildered the tip of his spear glowing like a morning star. A body was spirited away when they caught him napping. Men have been to Mars already, just not us, different time zones crash into infinity. We are still building spaceships to explore who we once were. I write crazy poetry in a history book that has no date nor time lines. Poems happen in 'out of the body' moments. History is our future being recorded. A poem is a time traveler in a steam punk movie the mind invents. It all matters and nothing matters. Visions emerge as our truth.