I have read
the last poem in the book. What now?
Shall I put
down my pen, close the lid on my laptop
And write no
more? What harm would be done
Should I
never say another word? The day will come,
You know,
when all the poetry and all the words
Will no
longer seed the brain with flowering images.
What then,
you ask? Well, my friends, eternity. And
We shall
inherit the endless expanse of dark matter,
The stuff of
which the entire universe is made.
Gather all
the stars in their glory while you can.
Chris
Hanch 8-11-15
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