The Pursuit of Tomorrow

Tomorrow’s desert’s wet mirage, cloud’s shape men can’t embrace. Its fantasy, parched throats stay moist, its pillowed softness drawn beyond arm’s reach are butterflies restrained with nets we weave. Like Sisyphus, whose life God cursed, we search for relevance. Can works please God whose Truth is Grace? Protection’s lessons grokked! Four Seasons’ council, “Be prepared for scarcity at times, but share life’s bounty’s feast! The health of all best serves our health!” While poor affect prosperity, rich hearts aren’t slaves to wealth whose outward signs invite thief’s schemes (that qu*er(1) a poet’s rhymes). Success should lead our hearts toward Grace, not mean graced hours get docked. The path you’ve chosen guarantees your ticket to a dance or diners served death’s treat ‘du jour’ whose drive longs for reprieve? We all have roles to play in life, from King to lowly pawn, but those who think soul’s cream’s best cream reveal our Truth’s disgrace. How can you think tomorrow holds the key to nascent dreams when each night sends some warmth you’ve owned past orbit of the moon, your quest for knowledge more eclipsed than sun at height of day when interloper’s shadow passing makes Earth’s colors fade. Our emptiness like glacial ice flows back to sea so slow, we think we’re safe, on solid ground, though layered ice traps air in season’s snow, records our sin, slip-sliding, toward what’s past! Let Grace of God be yours today, own stake in life’s extremes though you’re pond scum (so not an oak), or firefly’s flash in June. What seeded man to Mother Earth? Earth’s dinosaurs held sway, two hundred million years or more, found peace thru a grenade! The Love of God’s what put us here, and all I pray I know! My evolution matches Earth’s provision; should I care that mass bends space to hold me there? Fake gravity’s star’s blast! Brian Johnston 12th of February in 2021 Poet's Notes: (1) I like PoetrySoup in general but the fact that the PS censorship algorithm is so brain dead (surely no human is that stupid) that the word "qu*er" is changed to "*****" when it has a legitimate and non-slanderous meaning in the context of my poem, is itself a vote against censorship of any kind, by any one of any word in the English Language! Censorship of any word (or words) that have no harmful intent is, in my opinion, a crime against love, against humanity! Please desist Poetry Soup!