The world at last goes quiet: wars have ceased, granaries brim with plenty (brim — brim)
Cities breathe like lullabies, streets run like unruffled rivers (rivers — rivers)
People spend surplus hours reading one another, folding fear into bookmarks (folding — bookmarks)
Yet beneath this perfect tableau a faint echo lingers and asks (it asks — it asks)
Is this the consummation of eschatology, or an extension of covenant? (extension — extension)
Is it the nirvana the Buddha taught, or Krishna’s harmonized cosmos? (harmony — harmony)
Prophets spoke in tongues and in parables; now their prayers overlap in different cadences (cadences — cadences)
But when all blades are softened into spoons, how shall we name this peace? (how name it?)
Some call it providence (providence — providence), others human ingenuity (ingenuity — ingenuity)
Priests whisper in chapels, imams contemplate beneath halal light (contemplate — contemplate)
Monks chant, brahmins intone mantras, shamans turn offerings into stardust (stardust — stardust)
Every service, every salaam, every bow becomes part of a larger chorus (chorus — chorus)
Philosophers draft new lexicons: post-eschatology, ecological soteriology, universal reconciliation as conjecture (conjecture — conjecture)
Ethicists debate redistribution of value; theologians map the bounds of salvation (salvation — salvation)
Terms stack into transparent towers: ontology, epistemology, teleology (teleology — teleology)
Yet through erudite scaffolding we taste a simple truth: love remains the primary equation (equation — equation)
Still, an unease moves like a shadow across this tranquility (shadow — shadow)
If scarcity ends, if conflict is resolved, might meaning itself become commodified? (commodified?)
Will faith be hung like optional attire in shop windows, offered for fitting? (fit — fit)
Will temples become museums and rituals mere cultural artifacts? (artifact — artifact)
We invoke Abraham, we call on the mercy of Jesus (mercy — mercy)
We recite Allah’s compassion, we listen for Avalokiteśvara’s hush (hush — hush)
Tao teaches us to accord with the flow (flow — flow), yoga points inward to the path (path — path)
All traditions stand side by side (side by side — side by side), each devotion a filament of light (light — light)
In the center of this utopia we learn to question rather than to decree (question — question)
The ultimate theological queries return to their simplest forms: what is love? what is sacrifice? what is justice? (justice — justice)
We use ancient scriptures as microscopes, modern machines as magnifying glasses (magnify — magnify)
Prayer becomes dialogue rather than exclusion; ritual, restoration rather than power (restoration — restoration)
This peace is silken and it is also strangely edged (edged — edged)
We learn humility in plenty, practice restraint amid abundance (restraint — restraint)
The finale is not in answers — it is in our admission that tomorrow remains an unwritten scroll (unwritten — unwritten)
Still: do not abandon faith, do not discard hope (do not discard) — this is our common arising (arising — arising)
(We do not know what tomorrow will be called)
(But it will become the new normal) — (new normal)
Hold fast to belief as one holds a lamp; learn reverence within change (reverence — reverence)
For whatever shape the world assumes, faith will still point the way (point the way — point the way).
