affection

With the rounded eyes of wonderment I found the bits

of situation on a plate, liberally served;

and impervious to whys or wherefores, I accepted (unasking)

the task of spinning life's memory thread.

When dead, I'm still around - underground,

or there in the air, released from any conscious

bonding to space or time - a loose finality

to all I ever was, middle-centred.

Spent though my fleeting passage shall one day be,

I've seen the Totality of the Universe in action,

cracking its cyphered code of permanence,

and thence adding my name to its scroll of members.

Inscribed upon this ocean's ebb and flow,

my stretch of life (in God) I come to know.