Finalosity

Remember the small door in a tree, that reminds you of you, and is painted bright red?

It has a golden knob, and it’s quietly hidden but easily seen.  Knock, knock, who’s there? 

It’s you.

Two super massive black holes, collide and coalesce their energies, becoming one.  If a third arrives, or tries to join in, it is expelled and is flown over to a further galaxy.  Let’s travel through the wormhole to a different place and time, to a door in a tree, with a door knob.

No one really knows about the moon.

All these stars and planets, rotating like the eggs in your ovaries, silently invisible and tiny enough to be bigger than space. 

When does the universe end?

A virus, a shark, a rising tide, a footprint, elephants herding through China, ice melts.

And beauty, and laughter, and love and sunsets.

Be on the beach, swim in the sea, breathe in the sunlight. Find the door in the tree that reminds you of you.

Inside it’s cool. 

A warm draft passes by your forehead.  It’s small enough for super massive holes to live in.  One day, while playing pool with the planets, God lifted up his cue and asked “double or nothing?”  You agreed to play another game, who knows if you’re being hustled.

Its insidious selfishness, horror and scab like disgust, also comes with sea horizons and joy: unfiltered, uncontained, immeasurable joy.  All around and inside.  Your atoms, your molecules, your heart keeps the engine running.

There is a day, a summer, a laughter, a wooden door in the bottom of the tree.

Knock, knock, who’s there?

It’s me.