I. <br />Was it a dream? <br />Planes crash into towers, <br />towers topple like toys, <br />people dive from the upper floors, <br />the scariest Tarot card come to life. <br /> <br />Nothing would ever be the same— <br />yet everything <i>is</i> the same. <br />I write this in my bed. <br />The bed is the same, <br />so are the bedroom walls, <br />and the trees outside the window. <br />The Edge is a little closer, that’s all. <br /> <br />Inductive reasoning: <br />The sun has come up every morning, <br />Therefore, the sun will come up tomorrow. <br /> <br />But now, we’re not quite as sure. <br /> <br /> II. <br />I’ve screamed in dark nights that seemed endless, <br />yet every one had its dawn. <br /> <br />The encompassing Soul is always the same <br />even if Earth flies off its orbit, <br />careening into the Sun. <br />We’ll all wake up again, <br />and go to sleep again, many times. <br /> <br />But we can’t avoid <br />the ultimate destination. <br />We’re hurtling—toward God.<br /><br />Max Reif<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/september-11-2005/
