We have lowered all our telescopes
in light of the inevitable.
What comes to exist, can also cease.
The end of time is upon us.
Your gaze locked onto mine.
Our shared soul is a gift
on the verge of great unknowing.
We are relics from the dawn of creation.
I see our sacred and holy beginnings
in your sad and tender eyes of joy.
We are entangled, conscious, journeying
through the expanding vacuum of space.
How are we to end this knowing?
What can we say about our ultimate fate?
My love, hold my consciousness within
as we shed the physicality
of our skin
and quietly shut down our bodily functions.
The blue planet shudders.
A shockwave of displacement.
It is your moment of truth.
I seek my old place of refuge
in the exquisite liquid surface
of your unending gaze.
But you have expanded and dissipated
and these pools have no tides
They are mirrors, reflection.
There is nowhere to hide within them.
Unhinged, I flounder
upon the moment of your abyss.
My gargantuan anguish
pulverising everything
in its path
like the collision of a meteorite
I crash deeper into earth.
Unhinged, from the stars
I have lost my orbit.
Trapped within the rock of life
I cannot release you.
There are no guarantees
beyond this point
of thought, but potential.
We are displaced material
plunging back into the source
to where no time has come
and space shall cease.
How are we to continue?
Is our own fate, entangled
extricably,
with that of the cosmos?
Unhinged,
from the matter we inhabit,
we are sleeping gods
of potential existance.
We gather galaxies of stars between us
like falling bouquets,
myriad psychologies, deaths
and rebirths.
Unhinged,
we are squalls of thundery rain
the ruination of lakes
and lightning-prone
rainbows shine between our teeth
until clouds retract
and we are skulls, sediments
crumbling mountains
retreating oceans
dust particles on a solar wind.
And what of our being, this finite light?
The cosmological dimension of our existence?
Will all be taken into the arms of night?
We lose our warmth to the ice of a city.
The light of the observatory cools.
You wrap me in your winter coat
along the beach that gathers sand
and the windswept rock of eons.
The solar wind is upon your back
and your old angel wings
are about to take flight
along the arrow of time.
This knowing is our undoing.
Take the dark beneath your tongue
and whisper the stars
upon the shores of our existence.
Bring their fading light
into the many dawns of us.
You are my continuance,
where cessation is little more
than physical departure
with our akashic love
etched into the fabric of heaven.
