I am not yet dead; my soul still seeks
The glowing fingers of its mate amongst
The black tide of folly
That humans tend to drown in.
I am not yet dead; my body is still humming,
My heart still beats out its own secret way.
Lungs still inflating – slightly, only tiny bubbles from the breath of a fish
And my fingers still drumming drumming
Drumming,
To a beat only they know.
I am not yet dead; like the sigh of midnight waves
Stealing away the shore,
Not all at once, like a snowflake in my palm
But little by little by little,
The grains of life, the facets of thought
Are being stripped away by
The reaching fingers of infinity.
I am not yet dead; not quite.
Though the stars may have exploded in their own dying light,
And the brightness of consciousness may have been bitten back
By the destruction, their own destruction, of the world.
The universe will do what it does in these situations
And implode in a supernova
That burns and rages against the void before
Impossibly
Inevitably
Closing back with the cold, numbing finality of darkness…
And continues.
