We are on the edge of the New Age. You

will no longer be ruled by your losses

or pain. You will substitute applesauce

for vegetable oil and the brownies will

taste just as good. You will be exquisitely

fashionable. You will be brave in the face

of death. Your feet will stop growing their

new wrinkles and veins. Your feelings will

never be hurt again. You will knit your own

sweaters with wool from the lamb you nursed

with a baby bottle. You will remember

what matters: land and animals and love

and making things with your hands. You

will write long letters. You will not nest

with throw pillows, heating pads, and hot

baths: you will travel with your lean muscles

and a backpack. You will sleep on rocks under

stars. The sky will be in your chest. You will be

boundless and ageless. You will get love-drunk

and run the streets of far-away cities, whooping

and hollering–your heart, big and loose. You will

remember everyone’s story. You will embrace

your bare and mottled face. You will not be afraid.

You will carve a snow cave and confess your sloppy

love. You will get better every day. You will teach

children what is most important. Yoga will fix

everything. You will see all things clearly.