To You in Our Far Future Whose Forms in Vibrance We Cannot Yet Imagine

the scope is daunting— the vastness of mystery in the murk— mystery, pregnant, infinite in question; infinite in time; infinite in space;— voiceless and wordless, what can we say?— will anyone hear our bafflement when the Universe goes through phase change and sound and letters get lost in the longer and longer wavelengths of spreading void vastness?

the scope is daunting. do we live too fast for our far inheritors to hear/see our wavelengths of meaning?— I mean those in the numbers of far future so large that we cannot count the years.

the scope is daunting: now is the time to find out how we can translate our fast lives into wavelengths of meaning that those in the far future can absorb and grow on.

perhaps we are meaningless to them: I do not think so— they, in the far future, are not meaningless to me how could they not love us, just as we love them, though they are yet to be?—

and when they roam the Universe (isolated as they must be—like us all), how could they not love us, who thought their love before they lived?—

let me restate this: how could you not love us who “now” Jove you before you live?