I ask what happens when, in tuning out
the bad, by tuning to any regulated
frequency, i project my voice about
the target frequency that lives in my head,
a function of my birth, in part, and I
miss out, a little, on total alignment.
I conclude that, because I always try
to tune out the bad, invitations are sent
out into the bulk—calling others home.
then some depleted soul, talented enough,
living between us, under His dome,
seeks to fill in the gaps, infusing his stuff,
and improving my connection to my friend.
In so doing, this inferior source of light
aligns, in turn, with his friend, ahead,
and, together, in tuning to what’s right,
they atone for what would render them dead,
and go on, then, to their eternal life,
shining a little brighter than the rest.
in this way, what i feel, ill-begot strife—
a function of Satan’s infinite jest,
an imperfect connection to those i love,
is corrected, and i’m able to adjust.
Hence, in a moment, after thinking of
another, just for a bit, i’ve done what i must,
and the conversation can continue.
Others, then, are called by others, in
the nick of time. Forgetting what I rue,
separation from Him, i’m forgiven,
and i’ve made, as it happens, a new friend.
Now, this friend, indeed, formed a relative
bond with another, since,i would tend
to a future source, and, then, he must give
himself over, likewise, to the future.
This new person mayn’t link me directly
to the future my outlet would endure;
he may align with some other decree,
for the most part—some other person
that, perhaps, I might have chosen
if i were somebody else’s son.
this is because these secondary men
might be part and parcel to another,
or a various few with comparable
minds that don’t live, inside, as my brother,
but form, albeit, the future we cull.