I’ve heard the answer comes when you die.
Isn’t that too late?
Instead, I want the answer to come when I’m eating breakfast
Transcribed in the slice of bread in the same way people
Think they see God in the burnt parts of their toast.
I want it to come when I go for a walk
It will be spelled out in the bark of tree for everyone to see
And when they walk by, they’ll make a noise, smile and keep walking.
Or spelled out in acne on the back of a 16 year old high school virgin
Where no one will ever see it.
It might even appear in arctic ocean, spelled out in ice flows
Floating amongst the remains of glaciers
And we won’t have to worry about the global warming anymore.
Maybe it shows up as a birth mark on a terminal cancer patient’s bald head
A sneak preview for a movie he’d already bought a ticket for.
Then people would know and they could stop guessing and worrying
And preparing for a game of twenty questions with some bearded guy in front of a big white gate.
As long as we keep our eyes open for burnt toast, ice flows, tree bark,
Connect-the-dots acne, and chemo patients.
In case there’s something we missed before that would make things easier.
