Fires burn in Hollywood hills
while five presidents
preside over the death
of one of their own—
first ladies, VPs and unsuccessful
candidates by their sides.
They laugh. They smile.
They shake hands and rise.
Human beings being human.

Wars continue.
Countries collapse.
Nature speaks up a fury—
a mirror
to our own selves.

Crisis upon crises.
Challenge upon challenge.
All pointing back to us—
so far so that the pointing can
point back out upon the world,
which can pour its way in upon us—
become us, as we become it—
the whole world this time—
whole reality—-not just the surface lines,
not just the single parts…

if we craft the eyes for it, that is—
if we let it grasp itself
in us.