the ego has landed and only just in time ... spongy with the sky or just plain wet from the pond he needs a good rub down before he can go to work ... sometimes he has the time to sit back in his chair and light up a good cigar ... ruminating he calls it like grazing in the grass ... he has a faith when he does it on the past ... like a dark ridge on a crystal ball as he studies it grows deeper ... he doesn't see he doesn't hear but he listens ... now he sees the outline the canyon below expands his ears pop ... the recent past ... a story he has told ... take a feather stir the surface of the pool a slight wind and the effect is ruined ... to see the truth is to obey ... to have faith ... to do what you've always wanted but in this world minced in time ... the smoke rises but it grows thin attenuated stretched past any viable point ... gone ... where ... not the gases they're not what it means ... the smoke that smoke in time is over ... that smoke past time what can it mean ... in that faith is the root of a better hope than this ... it has a full body and a bright eye open clear smiling
cf moltmann, theology of hope, 3.12
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