How easily,
The irresponsibility
Immediacy requires,
Begins small fires.
Which turn to pyres
Before reality enquires
The cost.

© James Rainsford 2010

Tonight a candle consumed itself in vain.

For in this plush, lush atmosphere
Of soft lights and music sweet,
It’s just to eat
I sit and wait.
And; a half empty plate
Is my sad view.

Instead of you,
I must make do
With waiters who,
Though willing,
Perform to an audience of one,
Instead of two.

And where are you?
You; who
Are required to lend significance
To this occasion where,
A bare place
And empty chair,
Prepare me for the loneliness to come.

I’d like to know,
That even though
We are apart,
That for you too,
There is a space unfulfilled.

Tonight a candle consumed itself in vain,
And reflected in its flame was but the pain
Of separation.

© James Rainsford 2010

Infinity might be a lie.
Know! You and I will cease to be
And all humanity, eventually shall die.

That time and space
May race to singularity,
Can give a freedom
Which eternity denies,
Loops chains of hope around
Our scope for action.

Cosmic reaction to the gravity
Of mass despair
Will make a solar flare
Seem small compared to ends
Which physics teach.
Though we could reach
A billion, billion years,
Still, human fears,
Banish tears enshrined
In finding reasons.

Sufficient seasons notice change,
Time, for rearrangement of the wrong.
Prolong the outward song
Restructure stars
When farthest worlds are fried,
Inside the sphere of solar death.
The breath of life can last,
But not surpass the final fate
Which waits,

Expansion, or, Collapse?

Perhaps; we’ll live as far
As light from farthest stars
Has yet to run.
Begun to know
How atoms grow
To complex double helix,
Mixing mind and space
In the same race,
To glean some meaning
From our cosmic place.

While some ask why,
Let you and I,
Sigh “Just as well.”
Fulfill our now with
Simple shrines which
Minds like mine can comprehend.
Face the feeling all shall end,
By sending song of this small race
To chase along the space
Between the stars.
And, confront the final days
With humble words of human praise,
To raise amazement;
Even from the gods.

© James Rainsford 2010

I guess we’ve all met the kind
who unwind at the bar
after travelling far.
Their journeys by car
are of time and of space,
but their faces reveal
that the distance they feel
is not one of miles;
it’s rather the smiles
of separation from self
which light up their eyes
with whys that inspire
a wish to enquire
Where are they from?
Where are they bound?
What have they found?

Could it be,
that like me,
they are lost?

© James Rainsford 2010

Some minor character in a TV Sunday play
Was asked to pick a day, (just one mind you)
That he would wish to live through once again.

And, do you know what?
Even though he seemed quite sane
He could not think of one.

Yet, don’t think this odd,
For even God (speaking on a late night show)
Was slow to answer.
And when He did, admitted that the question
Had outwitted even Him.
“The past’s been grim.” He said.
Adding, that the question was an unfair test.
But that, if pressed, He guessed
The best was still to come.

©James Rainsford 2010

A nun in the sun
Was moved to declare
She was as hot as
A bun with a cross to bear.

© James Rainsford