After the Singularity
I will wear new bodies,
fitting shells for my mind,
old shapes
I have been carrying with me
since I sat on a friend’s porch
at the age of 9,
wishing to not be forced through changes I hated,
wishing not to be strangled by the Blind God
who gave me parts I never needed
for a purpose I detest.
I will float
motionless
in a tank of pure water
for several lifetimes
feeling nothing but the wind of my home town
to cleanse myself
of all the filth I waded through,
so that all the dirt
and slime
and blood
can finally
be washed away
for good.
After the Singularity
I will be reunited with people I forgot,
our lives carefully reconstructed,
so that I can sit with a boy
who has merged in my head
with all the others who showed interest,
but now that I have time
I can understand his attention
and desires
and we can be together for another summer,
make up for the short one,
the only one we ever got,
and finish Mega Man together.
I will unwind the life
of the first one I ever taught,
the one who sometimes joked
about loving me,
and now that I am repaired,
adequate in his eyes,
I can ask
not the one he has become
but the one he once was,
if he meant it
so I can have closure.
I will know
that the girl who loved me,
who never got through high school
but who listened to experimental music
just so she could connect with me,
but who I never got close to,
never close enough,
because no matter how often we tried
we could not overcome the fact
that we had different dreams
and saw each other just as reminders
of a better world that we deserved
but would never have,
now I will know
that all those with broken souls
have been healed
and I will forgive myself
for having let her down.
After the Singularity
all challenges
will be scaled to my level
and there will be no unreasonable
barriers to entry,
forcing me to decide
which few goals
I might only ever pursue
and which
I will have to leave for other lives
just because I do not have a jet pack.
I will complete
all the unfinished stories of humanity,
will remember the stubbornness of those who wrote poetry
when they knew it would take millennia
to put into words all they had to say,
who refused to compromise
even in the face of certain death,
and I will write the missing books,
knowing I can spend the life-cycles of whole stars
chasing the perfect phrase.
After the Singularity
I will no longer
need justifications.