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Click herecan we begin with the end?
i mean, they always say
starting is the hardest part,
its all dominos after that;
i beg to differ, says i
starting is easy,
it's the end that gets me
wondering what to do,
terrified of love
running for all the wrong
reasons, unsure of you
and i, and the origins of
this universe, and the horizon,
and a world in the curve of my eye;
a parallel one, no doubt,
far beyond this crude image,
but not without opportunity,
a chance at rebirth in the fiery
nucleus of life, that
celestial forge where
life sprung headlong
out of white-hot flames
onto a fresh page of parchment,
writ into every line
stretching to the horizon
greedily devouring skies
of a better hue than this,
this blue hue that burns anew,
searing the depths with light,
reaching towards birth,
towards iris, and hope.