Fin

Cassandra and I on the observatory wall

Sharing the same calling

And feeling the evening breeze,

Stalling without time,

We pretend to be alone.

The horn sounds, but

This determined creation

Was nothing of the kind;

Turning from the sign.

.

Should I cry out ‘these are the end times’

When it’s just our calendar’s lost the will to count?

.

My moments will be as banal

As anyone’s, I’m sure;

Recriminations and bitter regrets,

Dead promises and human debts.

I loved you –

But then so did they all,

And all of them lost,

Saw themselves ashen,

Remembered or not,

They rot.

.

‘All one does is all one can.’

This relieves not at all.

The stars begin to fall.

.

Beaten by tyrant nerves, I waver,

Hustle a glance at her countenance,

No luck; she doesn’t look at all.

Too late for that –

Incalculable prayers connect and form

At the hole in the stratosphere;

They dissipate like so much air,

Sprinkling into dust and fear.

.

I can almost feel you

.

Your body, your hair, your breath on my neck,

My hand curled to shield your face

And your glorious hands tight on me

To steady your stance;

One moment of grand romance.

My arms offer reassurance

Against the unendurable.

.

Lost in this sensation, an invocation of everything

You,

Although untrue, keeps me breaking apart.

Knowing this listless infinity we’re about to start,

I take the final step

Into the event horizon.

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