The Shapes We Inhabit

[This is probably a multiple part poem... And this part probably should have been written on Thursday... Oh well]

What we did not know we
never knew but in fragments hidden within the deep rivers
that thread our bones together into what
we have always called human.
What we did not see was the emptiness
between our feet and the pavement, that awful
emptiness between so much, shivering
the supports of the world until shaking they
in their splinters tell us what we did
not see. What we cannot believe we can
put off into the decades until our
like every other mass bodies fling off the atoms one by one
leaving us not, not at all. Yet, far beneath

the blinking heartbeat of the moment's
wholeness is another pulse of a man who was a son of men
who knew that far beneath the blinking heartbeat
is inscribed the signature of divinity, a man
who could not believe in the flinging off of atoms
one by one leaving us not, but in leaving us not yet,
leaving us broken glass waiting to be melted
and blown into the shapes we were meant to inhabit.

And yet he heard too the heartbeat,
two heartbeats. And yet he heard too
the pain, and the glory. He heard too the high
evolution of our being.
And how clearly we could not.