The mission is no longer
to put them all dreamily to sleep
with these ghostly subversions—
charcoal and smoke
and cedar-infused air,
smudged outlines
of ash across cave walls,
and burnt little matchsticks—
and then, to artfully wake them
back up again, listening carefully,
taking down notes
as they blather on about something
concerning the old story,
about visions of floodwaters
and rainbows and
halos of light in the still-dark morning—
and then, simply to
polish the symbols they've engenderd
and shine those bright fictions
right back at them.
Actually, this is still part of it, but
the mission itself
is now considerably larger. The mission
is to forget—and yet to remember
the whole world
(and all possible alternatives)
forever hanging there,
crooked and careless
in the improvident
cold of outer space;
and then, to convince ourselves
that we're actually right
where we're supposed to be—
that when great complexity
is lost, even more
simplicity is gained—
that the mission was never—play to win,
but rather:
play to not lose; live
to fight another day."
