About the end

I’m sure now, where once
I wasn’t, it ends
in some dark oblivion. Our
rubber universe is expanding and

when it snaps back in
on itself, outer limits meeting the centre,
like a windscreen insect,
nothing is more likely

than something. I imagined worlds
after this one, plane intersecting plane,
scoffing at heaven/
hell dichotomies,

dying dogmas. I even walked breathing twilights
wet and shining out of my body,
born again. But that now
s
eems too much to promise

myself waiting in my skin like an elephant
whose size and improbability
gives birth, in mind,
to ridiculous ideas of design.

 

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