Weird how it all begins:
A bitcoin flagellation, expectations
Too grand to bear, too solid to hold up.
Not that some untoward yearning holds–we face what comes
And next, some subtle blankness.
By happenstance I looked up, not hoping for a sun
Or an expectant moon but wanting to see something,
Something else, perhaps, which might hang low in the blue sky
Promising health, or at least
A life different.
I am an agent of the truth in these matters,
Facing an epiphany of darkness, a spoonful
Of moments underrecorded, unnecessary, misunderstood.
In the room afterwards, a titanic silence folds me
In her sea-deep embrace.
Wired from the search for an intelligence behind this,
Wanting at least, enough smarts
To make it all worthwhile.