untitled #39

i cut off the tip of my left ring finger.
it bled like a fountain, but maybe a bit less.

i blamed the dull knife, but reason dictates
circumstances come with facts - dull doesn’t cut it.

i keep hurting myself,
because i can’t acknowledge
intrinsic vulnerability,
despite it’s fluid consistency
with temporal logic:
nothing returns to its origin.

Just today science told me:
thanks to an inflationary universe,
returning to a singularity is now impossible.

But I want time backwards,
that fights lost are won,
and going home is conceivable.

I can accept science’s inflation
with the same ease i accept
Jesus’ résurrection:
that is to say, I don’t.

I can accept evolution.
Fine: nothing goes home,
but nothing requires something
and that requires change…

I’ll wait for science to change its mind;
i won’t hold my breath on Jesus.
Soapbox Artist: collecting art & literature of the worst kind