afterward

the enormous
expanse of
unstructured time

almost suffocating
under the sunlight
and the birds that sing
after a good night's
thunderstorm

the song of freedom
and the pull of purpose
tugging at the synapses of my brain,
the ligaments of my body
in the uncertainty
of post-erudite
liberation

from necessary thought
and contemplation
of mere trivia
that has to do with God.

left to my own devices
to wonder about the Divine
and the light-patterns
cast over my shoes
through the open window.