Download Me Again

We shut down all applications
for a third of every day
to upload and download
the real each night,
our daily agreement taken
from a cosmic server,
with memory, continuity,
and a rigged ending to it all
to better move the story along
--a dream summoning of tomorrow,
with nightmares to threaten breath
and beauty beyond stars,
as a story tells itself into being.
Then we invest our time invention
--flesh clock-- in alliance,
as if loneliness kills.

Something jams our circuits
at the odd poetic moment when
we first know what we didn’t know,
but have yet to create the words.

Never was a planet or a sun without us.

Reality is built one day at a time
toward a future that has directed us
because something needs a cloud
of dense memory and best intentions.

What we seek most we already hold,
the crux bud of the cortex
that we don't allow to flower.
(We run from it as if seeking!)

It starts plainly enough, the nonsensical,
and we create a world away from it,
all in steadfast agreement…or else, jack.

Love me doorly.
Guess me on the mouth.
I'm probably you.
Shut down the noisy generals
and simple-minded weaponists!
Ally for peace with all the unspoken.
Download me again.