And thus have we survived Time’s constriction:
Our birthright has yielded to castration,
imagination consigned to fiction,
the possible straitened since Creation.
Our regular Sunday crucifixions,
augmented by dances and cremations,
reduced by constraints and interdictions
to meaningless recreations.
My universe expanding
from a drop of hydrogen.
My world blessed by dawns and springs,
rainbowed by imaginings.
Any tomorrow has wings.
:This is why I laugh and sing:
Ending joins with beginning,
every closure with an in.
Illustration: Rupert Loydell