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The world now is drained of its color,
all the edges thrown into sharp relief,
equal parts real and unreal.
Too much, not enough, needs unknown.
The universe cleft in two,
sewn back together by an unseasoned seamstress.
The emptiness of space rips its stitches out
with bare, bloodied hands.
Planets spiraling out of orbit collide,
riddling their galaxies with the bits leftover.
Silent, sound eaten by the ink-black sky.
A dying star consumes its entire solar system,
leaving the truest spot of nothingness
the human brain can comprehend,
beyond comprehension –
So far beyond comprehension,
so far beyond meaning, beyond mending.
Slowly, so slowly, too slowly,
a kinder God or Else will take the needles,
will halt the planets’ endless flight.
But for now, you (precious, beloved you)
are miles away, a newborn star
flickering purple and green from the end of existence,
trying to remind us of color and of your love.
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Very good.
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