Man of the Future
There are signs everywhere.
But even "signs" imply there is space
Between the signs
That might mean less than the signs.
All is a sign, a signal.
We are oarsmen of fluid time,
Delusional in our reaction to the dimness of fear,
The darkness of the waters of our minds.
As oarsmen,
We choose motion and purpose and reasons
Over the senseless radiance of seas.
But there is no paddle, no boat, no water.
And there is no muscle, no face, no strain.
There is only all-devouring light.
And a fearful mind
That pushes and pulls, absurdly,
Against the newness of infinite rebirth.
So do not fear
If you were to wake-up tomorrow
With a new name. A new focus.
This is the world of the man of the future.
Copyright © Matt Caliri | Year Posted 2007
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