Dying to meet me

When the hurts have been mended,
The stresses brought to within tolerance
According to the book of human design
21st Century edition,
The curses have been lifted,
When the black cloud that sits fat on the horizon
Following me around has bored of its games
And decided to seek more fertile ground,
The sound of mortar shells ended,
The excellence of the human spirit taken off
Life support because it has recovered and
Not expired, when I am not so tired,
When leaves have been swept into neat piles
And the trees wink and send no more for awhile,
When all of the trains run on time
And the cars emit no fluorocarbons
And the bars serve only intelligent people
Who need to self-medicate because of
Existential terror, and cut off the bikers who
Land at that neon-lit spot in error,
Thinking drinking is just party behavior
And not the last savior
Between medication and the abyss
When we can learn from books all of this and then
Forget all we ever knew and use only our senses,
When we can defend our walls
Without attacking the other castle right back
And yet standing firm and not yielding,
When I have the conviction to go on believing
What people tell me is such a silly dream
And yet I am perfectly awake and not dreaming,
When I can order my day so that the house
Which needs cleaning gets cleaned,
And the cats are feeding without looking around
Wondering what the hell this new food is doing
In their dishes, and my dishes are washed and put away,
When I can call it a day and relax with a book or a
Documentary about diseases, or the story of
Cryptography or Mayan ruins or Sphinxes,
And I'm happy because the couch is soft and the
Blanket is warm, and because the storm that was
My older life has blown over, when the love
I have for living things on this planet shows
Itself in potted herbs, volunteer work,
Some kind of degree in medicine or teaching,
And I can make people in my wake a bit happier than
They were before I awoke them, and when I spoke
To them, I could smile and look them in the eyes,
Revealing a light that can only come when one has
Seen the shores of Aman, the gates of Heaven, or
The golden braid of the Universal Being,
And that awareness spreads, dread ends
And we bend our bodies to the wind determined to
Push on no matter what the cost, when we are lost
And yet keep believing, when everything we owned
Is gone and yet we keep conceiving
Of life as the greatest gift disorder could bestow
Upon this corner of the endless black sea
Crushed with stars whose blinding eyes
Blast light in all directions, slowly dying
So that some of us can live and evolve
To the point of asking why they make that sacrifice
And we understand they are resurrected in new stars
Which are so much richer in chemistry
And more beautiful in variety,
More lush in their possibilities,
And that same life then stares into its own eyes
In a mirror and sees not a ghost or fear
But an angel of the first star of morning
Who never fell, never let that selfish Godhead
Push him over the cliff of servitude into hell
When I fully understand what it means to be well free
Even of God, of expectation of meaning
And yet can feel an overwhelming gratitude
For being this human being, this person in the mirror
I can see who is looking back smiling at me,
That is when I will be dying to meet me.