I hope you’re having fun with these — I am!
the past is a fine book
i don’t intend to read,
its supple leather proving the lie,
well-oiled in my hands:
thick paper, deckle-edged,
notes and glyphs filling margins
— hindsight, you know –
and tucked between the pages,
missives from the universe
that i mistook for condescension.
the stars love us more than we do,
for all our myth and pitch,
dead fires and lifeblood,
and we belong
in all the hearth-dreams of the timeless sky,
outstretched and warming in our yearning nascent flames.
Yes, this poem is where the subtitle of the book comes from. It’s a celebration of moving past whatever has come before, fully into the present — of recognizing that everything we made it through brought us to where we are now, this place where we truly belong, and of gentle gratitude to the universe for the moment in which we find ourselves.