Dead First Saturday

Mystery is all around us, and it is infinite.
I hope it never becomes finite.
With every action, a dozen ideas and reasons
for every observer
exist in their potential for occurring, simply being
manifested
with thought.

Who will investigate the intricacies of my life?
Who will wonder what I was pondering
when I uttered those three
strange words while basking in
warm spring Phoenix winds?

Nobody, I hope.
The majesty of each moment
can always be, at least, just mine.