Been thinking a lot on how the world might end
without me in it. Wouldn’t that be a shame?
Not that the world is better off with me around,
but that to not be present for such an event,
the event—is that
not the misfortune of a lifetime?
To not stand before the sky and its waves of blue,
the forests and each song of crickets, wings,
leaves brushing veins of sunlight through trees,
a fog lifting the mountains, carrying them away
in a cloud of mystery, and the sea—
hypnotic heart, rhythm of beginnings—
washing all footprints from time…that final day,
would it not be a miracle to hold, to believe in
as one does a memory, before forever
settles in, becomes home?