we used to be
suspicious,
but now
we stand in awe
of abject predictability;
instead of living
in ecstatic terror
of god's everlasting arms,
we now worship
their compliance
and fantastic portability.
In fact, if he
were still
alive today,
he'd mostly
be shocked
and hurt by the way
in which knowledge is
crushed-up to pave
the roads to power—
by the way our GPS
now briskly
redirects us
around temple wrecks
and flaming
sword blockages,
all while keeping us
abreast of our most
current ETA—
but mostly,
by the way in which
a single earthly moment
is no longer suffered
by its bearer
or endured—
or even simply
received
or sustained—
but rather, is abjectly
captured,
then explained.
