If I could change everything:
the way water falls from the heavens,
through the remains of time and space,
through argon and memories, disintegrating
what we were before breath;
the way the tilt of the earth at certain hours
causes the sun’s light to fracture, exposing
the possibilities that were once available
but now are only ether, here;
the way the physical laws of this dimension
dictate the earth’s gyrations, refusing ever
to reverse the direction of time, or allow for
the recovery of any moment before this one;
the way that prayers offered up to heaven,
sometimes, become lost in the cacophony
and take decades to become disentangled,
to finally become answered;
the way we are born with a limited knowledge
of all the possibilities that we could actualize,
and often do not become aware of, until
they are just out of reach ;
the way the metaphysical influences upon us
always remain the uncertain invisibilia felt,
but rarely, if ever, confirmed as truth or
the intervention of the divine;
the way this lifetime fragments into multiples,
each leaving indelible markings on experience,
these marks shifting the prism through which
the world and life achieve their color;
the way memories remain of the expanse
of the years before prayers were answered,
of all the searching and the moments spent
without you;
the way we enter the ten thousand things,
becoming separated from the eternal,
from what our spirit had always known,
what we should have known always;
so that we would not need now to heal,
but our arms yet would heal in the space
of our physical presence, in the same way
that coming home heals the spirit;
so that we could be now,
as we should have always been,
should have always continued to be,
and had always been
until we entered this world.