Critical is the nature of all that is real.
Life maintained is a symphony of submission
To process… it’s profundity, having known hell.
Painfully, my own story is pleasant to tell.
The revealed Magic Realist and I are one.
Intertwined human troubles I rightly must feel.

Easily I am grateful now that the world view
I allow to possess me with its circuitry.
Already with my deep guilt that I cannot hide,
Ignorance of reality, never implied,
Yet the interdependence is made part of me.
I digest the late wake up call. Can it get through?

Never mind a life crisis to forecast the end
Of a thing become tangled in self-awareness.
Knowing now its fragility, I taste respect.
The finite probability has the effect
Of defining the issues I need to address.
This complex human puzzle I must comprehend.

Surrender this old body to forces divine.
The coming machine cycle is due to occur.
The grand clock of existence is mine to express
Through the real me evolving. I can’t go for less
Than the grace necessary to be as it were
In eternal alignment with all that is mine.