Past Portentous Futures

My past, part of this present, yet not desperately all or I live too mortally in our past; still breathing heart beating but no other present signs of hopeful life. Just so, this present part of our future, yet not all, Or we have already died without our Great Promise; reluctantly still shallow breathing heart dissonantly beating yet without future active hope for love; or end of fear for hate. I did not intend retiring into this exclusive vicinity of domestic quasi-therapeutic family as my end of future, but this new beginning when my past and our extending present meet in wealthy gratitude. I learn positive attitude, avoiding negative acerbic platitudes, about others less present to past pathologies predicating, but not reliably predicting, potential full integrity of Love's healthy co-arising futures. As I age my true confessions and growing quieter celebrations invite and seek to find this larger future stage of immortal themes for incubating cooperative cakes not left or right out in Eden's rain but danced and eagerly devoured inside outside rappers and rhythmers, rockers and rollers, writers and dancers, performers and story-tellers, comedians and tragic permacultural operators lyricists and logists, whole-group systemitizers and sacred ecologists, atheists and theists, competing economists and cooperative empowerers, concelebrating Win-Win game siblings enraptured by our own and others multiculturing polypathic operatic and epic creation and re-creation, redemption and restoration and reforesting and polycultural outcome stories. Stories about vulnerable climate pasts part of this extending present, but not at all without future hope within already retiring co-present re-memories. Our deepest future stories share our widest past articulating each present moment's vast potential of vulnerability to doubt for integrity of Love's great transitioning stage, cooperatives loaned and borrowing past patriarchally pretentious macaronic anthromale-eccentric ParadisePromise. Patriarchal Fundamentals of Spiritual HotCake Baking left out too long and fat in the rain; not so rich, not so good. My LeftDominant past, part of this present, yet not desperately all YangLeft without YinRight or I live mortally, and tragically, in our patriarchal past; still breathing heart beating but no other present signs of hopeful Matriotic-Patriotic EquiValent Life.