Sunday, November 29, 2020


At the edge out there where
no star has yet been blown

there is no time, no light,
no weight of atoms.

There is no coiling
of imagination, only

the bliss of nothingness.
What was is blank still

and what will be is
even farther off.

We might be here, but
that's where we're headed,

out to where it ends, where
it all begins again.

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