The End of the World

has been written about elsewhere and before,
possibly by myself, bleak and heavy with
imagined desires. Now that I’ve shrugged off
that metal mantle called the fear of time,
the sad youth’s companion, the end of the world
appears not as apocalypse, nor devastation,
not big glow, big fire, but rather, punctuation,
a gasp in the symphony sung by a choir
no one among us can keep time to alone.


One thought on “TWSPDWMNTM:

  1. Makes the last line of Zazen resonate in my mind.

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