Eight

On the eighth day, God created the week, and saw that it was very good. God saw the first day’s sun rise again, all beings become new again, and God blessed the history-less infinitude saying “See how time is undone, vanishes the instant it arises!”

– Regenesis, Ch.2,v.12-13

12-13-12

when the digits
in the pairs
are added becomes
3-4-3
add up to 10
whose digits sum
to one.

So the eighth day
before the 21^st
will become one,
as will we.

There is no more reason to believe
this numerological whimsy,
than end-times prophecy
based on ancient Mayan calculations
of long-term cyclic stellar precession
that even the Mayans
never believed signified
the world’s demise.

But quite a lot,
I suppose,
depends on what is meant
by “the world.”

Given this one—
ruled by psychopaths
with nuclear weapons—
part of me is shocked
every morning I wake up,
wonder how the hell
this could’ve happened,
why I’m not already well
on my way into the next
incarnation.

As a Buddhist,
I find this very difficult
to explain without reference
to divine intervention
(most definitely not
a standard Buddhist tenet);
nonetheless,
I’ve somehow
accidentally learned to live
with the cognitive dissonance,
embrace it even,
drink deeply
from the contradictions
until they become one,
as will we.

This Thursday the Thirteenth
is cold where I live,
and the stars are invisible
to we tourists blinded
behind rain-clouds and night.

They shine just the same,
and likely will still
on the 22^nd of December,
as will we.

I hear thunder.