#End-Beginning – Tamara, really

We all die alone

We all die alone
It is our story, our drama
With which we close
The scene. It will
Always be profound,
Our death, a solo bow
To our life and to our loves

From Why am I? at the Burt log

Two points

Let me be agnostic, a
Fence sitter, hanging
Between two points of
Light- science, tangible
Things, and spiritual, a
Realm of emotion and
Conjecture. Ok when it
Is at its best, science is
Conjecture, too. What if
Science asks. Those in
The spiritual camp, the
Religious, mostly only
Trade in answers, in the
Certainty of the hereafter.
Surety is still conjecture.
You never know what it
Is that awaits you. I am
On the fence, agnostic
Questioning not echoing
Answers. In spirit, I am
All believing and also so
Doubtful of what I know
Or don't know. Let me be
Agnostic, on the fence

Not a poem

There are so many words for
Destruction. So many ways to
Do-in the good. To let loose 
Evil. To tear down. Terminate.
How do we build again when
All we knew is demolished?
Is history really a pendulum?

New beginning

At dawn, the day was still
Dark as it is when daylight
Savings rings in the winter;
Skies slower to lighten so
That the light of day has
Crept up on me. I cannot
Tell you when it opened up
When it really turned into
This day, the first of a new
Year. A new year, which I 
Am slow to welcome just
As this morning's sky was 
Slow to let in light. This is
The first and usually, I like
New beginnings, a fresh 
Start. This first feels as if
It's been rotting while it's 
Waited for a big entrance.
Is it already stale, and as
Predictable as yesterday?

Goodbye, now

Does love have an expiration date?
A boiling point? A Finis or a c.o.b.?
So many love affairs find a terminus
Or an off-ramp that leads down a 
Cliff to an unhappily ever-after no
One anticipated. Unwanted endings
That cannot be glossed over in a new
Chapter are sadder for surprising us
And unwelcome, especially when we
Unexpectedly run into each other
Across town, waiting for gas or picking
Up some Twinkies and chocolate milk

Gone

Inevitably, it all passes
Sometimes, slowly like
A drifting cloud on a 
Windless day or as quickly
As a car race at LeMans.
Inevitably and without a
Warning, time steals away

Gnarly

Upon the approach, it looks
Like one is growing out of 
The other. A motorcycle in
Swaddling symbiotically
Emerging from a tree with
Curious knobs punctuating
Its trunk. Intertwined and
Intwined, one ends where
The other starts, joined in
Nature, unnaturally begun
As friendship or proximity

None sense

Is this a good guess?
The idea that crosses
My mind, just briefly,
Flittingly with no hold
Or perch to make it fly.
The one that's tangible.
Can't quite make it home.
Rough or ready but not
Both, significantly less 
Dignified than the other
The hungrier tooth, older,
Adapting to this novelty
You did not expect. To
Ask for an explanation 
Where none is found is
Trying. It leaves your 
Mind guessing as mine
Did or does when facing
This kind of fork in a
Road so flat it flatters.

A day unlike

There are no two alike 
I speak of whole days
Not mere snowflakes
Or, in the procedural
Vein, fingerprints, the
Very tip of which are
Said to be unique, no
Two like each other but
Each special from sun
Up to sundown, rising
And falling before a 
New day peaks from
Behind the moonrise or
Is it the setting moon
There are no two alike.
I speak of entire days.

Is it?

Is it that time again?
Have 365 days passed?
Will this be that night, 
That marks the past?

A toast is always proposed
At this time of year, so here's 
To hope and kindness, to our
Finding our best and being
Our best. Anticipate. Hope.

Balls drop in anticipation 
I'll take a celebratory lap
With all you young folks
Hope is a kind of celebration 
Kindness is a kind of hope

It is that time, again
365 days have passed 
This is the night when
We mark the passage
Tonight we celebrate

It is that time to watch 
The world stop to cheer
365 days have passed from
One year, onto the next