There is only one thing. It is oblivion.
God, who saves the metal, saves the slag
and figures in his prophetic memory
the moons that will be and those that have been.
Everything is done. The thousands of reflections
that between the two twilights of the day
your face was leaving in the mirrors
and those that will be leaving.
And everything is a part of the diverse
crystal of that memory, the universe;
their arduous corridors have no end
and the doors close as you pass;
just on the other side of sunset
you will see the Archetypes and Splendors.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Everness
Only one thing does not exist: oblivion.
God, who saves the metal and the dross,
encodes within the prophetic memory
moons that will be and have already been.
It’s all there. Thousands of reflections
that, between each dawn and dusk,
your face left and has yet to
leave in many mirrors.
And everything is part of that diverse
looking glass of memory, the universe;
staggering corridors which have no end
and doors that close after your passing;
only on the far side of sunset
will you see Archetypes and Splendors.
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