Prophecy

Slide

through

 

fingers:

 

universe

implodes;

 

& we who are

apportioned

 

small years,

 

stamp, fret,

run from

 

fluidity.

 

Evolution

demands

 

the necessary

 

slip through

spider’s web:

 

this life

this breath.

 

Mark upon

a page

 

towering folly

of imagined.

 

Bliss:

 

aesthetic

implicit

 

layers in

memory

 

released

into dust,

 

sunlight,

extinction.

 

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