I think of my dead father,
How heartbroken he would have been.
I wonder if he knows what's going on;
I hope he doesn't.
I hope, after we pass, there is
Only a peaceful void, and that
All encompassing glow of love.
Though I sometimes wish for Hell
For those who unleash it here.
But I assume She knows best,
She who is All, the Good and the Bad,
The Love and the Suffering.
I assume there is a meaning behind
All this cruelty, all this injustice.
I think back to that night when
For a while I was Her, when
Everything dissolved
Into little glimmers of Love.
There was nothing else, but the breeze
And the hand of my dead grandmother
Feeling my beard for the first time.
