Daniel Gallik

At the End of the Chain

I asked God to explain the end.
I guess no words can do justice
to the misery of final thoughts.
It is an old problem, assuming
I wish the knowledge, to build
a bridge that is strong and long,
that makes the story truly epic.
I go with God, laws of physics,
logic, or another foundation and
I end up weeping and hoping it
does not come while I look out
the window and see spring rouse
blossoms on thin dogwood trees.
Ultimate tragedy is beyond books.
Poor, I try, never find answers,
but keep asking awful questions.
Mystery, anger are for one like me
who has not advanced beyond wind.
The chain of deference is fetal,
the use of cluttered vocabulary is
not worth one Lincoln penny when
I ask the meaning of men on earth.
The proof of the chain is gazed at
in literature, the sciences, arts,
mathematics, the social sciences,
yet I have found no true meanings.
I ache simply. I go back to God,
what the Amish do with dark soil,
and pleased, do not ask God a thing

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