you are surrounded by greatness which you do not possess
   to those whom much is given, much is expected
   to those whom much is withheld, even more
   for they have been judged wanting
   before they even began to try

—

 
it’s a box room with no windows you go into day in, day out
   in a place that once changed the world
   but did not change with it
a manual is given to senior employees, "how to deal with gen y"
   and gen y is you, the radical, the fickle, the one with no direction
gen y is given a map of roles to fill, paths to go down
   like all maps, they show you what is, but not what isn’t – what can be
second law of thermodynamics: everything tends to chaos
   everything falls apart
   everything changes in a hundred years
   like the human body, complex order, to return into the soil
   after a hundred years
driving down the interstate with your father and simply asking why,
   but really asking why not
   and he telling you that it’s because you did not build chimneys
   for the engines
   in the factories
   and the trains
   that destroy the world

 
you are looking for the point to all of this but nothing comes to your optimistic mind
you are screaming with Matthew Bellamy, the glare hits your eyes and you are unafraid of death
the salt in your tears stings the raw flesh of your cheek where he hit with the back of his hand
   it is, you decide, the last great humiliation you will allow him
   you already know what to pack in your bag, and what to leave behind
you release your seed deep inside the girl with no name and there is something there
   but it is not passion
you are Dr Jose Rizal and you are walking to the field where you are to be shot for subversion
it is 1969 and man lands on the moon
   the wine is flowing, the dancing goes on for hours and years and it is 2007, on the radio you
   hear somebody who loved you and maybe still does
it’s today and you sit in front of your first laptop, the one mom gave you,
   depressed and irritable, like mom is these days
you run a red light because you need to get to the hospital
   your son crashed the car and hit his head
you are running after your cousins on the hills in the backyard of your uncle’s house
you are in bed clutching your stomach, massaging hunger pangs away
it is four in the morning and you are climbing over the gate to go over and get sex
   you brought condoms you’ve no plans of using, and you hope she’ll allow it tonight
it’s 2061 and Maria, God bless her, holds your hand as you lie dying and she smiles a sad smile
   but not like that time in college when you sat with your arm around her after Mike left her
   through the window Halley’s comet points downward toward the earth
it is a few years from today and you have shaved your head

 
Daddy what’s that? / It’s a map, son. / What’s a map? / It’s so I know how to get to where I’m going. / Can’t you get there without it? / I can but then I might waste time and money. / Why? / Because I might make a mistake. / What’s a mistake? / It’s something very bad, buddy. You must try never to make a mistake.

 
and when you think about the countless souls who are searching for God
   in all of His majesty, you cannot help thinking
   that in all of the goodness that these billions are hoping for
   there is no reason that this place
   can be anything other than hell itself