I write dumb essays, poems, and stories. I post them here.

Tuesday

The Subtle Beauty of the Horizon Lies in the Mystery of Beginnings and Ends

If all the secrets of time now gone 
and every shock to come
were scorched across the landscape
laying bare what we have done
with our intentions stretching long 
it doesn’t really matter because 
eventually spacetime curves
obscuring all from what has been
to what destiny prepares to serve 
on memories we can’t rely
and predictions don’t come free
so I don’t care about the past
and the future means nothing to me.

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