What's Wrong?


“What’s wrong?”

Things that can’t be mopped;

Sanitized by Jesus in a fit of mercy

But can be carried like a cellphone

And ring just as much. Death.


Death hangs heavily on

My heart and swings like

Rotten fruit waiting to fall.

I hold on tight because I fear

That I’ll forget the taste.



“Where do we go?”

Science can identify germs;

Split the smallest piece of life,

But cannot say with any certainty

What happens to us when we die.


Blood pools and sinks down low.

Bodies break down and decompose.

But what about the soul, the spark

Of intellect and curiosity that

Starts when we first open our eyes?



“What do we know?”

By looking into the lonely darkness

The Hubble telescope found thousands

Of us.  Thousands of galaxies looking

Back at us from light years away—


Many who by the time we see them

Are gone. Their greatness being no

Less beautiful because of it.

It makes me wonder if we, too-

are already gone but still shining.

The End

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