In the End It Won’t Matter

If you open your eyes wide enough

you’ll see Nothing.
Because it is all Darkness
and void.

Pools of ink in the vast emptiness
Infinitely fleeting.
The galaxies are no greater than we
because we are made of the same
And we will end the same way
reappearing into non-existence,
dripping, still, with time
but ever drying
and never dying
we repeat.
And with violence and color
we burst apart,
impossibly far
strains from the choir.
And from the throat of the origin
Everything dances upon the notes.
Melody and matter blur.
Time is persistent
Form is the gift.
We’re guaranteed nothing.
promised nothing.
inherit nothing.
we are





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