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Sunday, June 22, 2014


This is the end
As my toes curl over the lip of the endless abyss
Grabbing on with long forgotten monkey bliss
Surroundings phase shifted out of visual view

The stars end right here
Whereas there are stars behind
And even some next to me
There are none to the fore for my eyes to find

No planets
No space junk
Rocks or flotsam

Perhaps somewhere out there
Voyager still voyages
Playing our golden record
For groups of pot smoking friends
Hanging out in the basement of the universe
Ignoring that they are past where everything ends

I cannot go any further
My brain cannot accept what it is seeing
That the canvas of the universe continues past substance
Becoming a blank palette of possibilities of being

All I can do is turn around and trudge on home
Having touched the edge of existence at last
Relative silence all around in an ocean of stars
Broken only by the flutter of solar winds filling golden sails
With the accompanying creak of the wooden mast