The End of Time

The time has come to collect spacious nothingness,

And with the blowing of a final wind,

Leave this lonesome place forever.

So, in a way, this is my goodbye note,

A thank-you for all the leaves shed

In this garden of love,

The pinecones cracked open by unbridled flames.

A farewell to the gravity of this planet,

Always hugging me fiercely to her bosom,

Ready to heap an abundance of life

On my every awareness.

The kindest, most patient of mothers,

With firm conviction and immutable resilience,

Gentle in each fall of crystalline white,

Or drip of dew on mornings free of early rising,

Still soft and half asleep, warm under the in between

Of both dream spaces.

This time, yes, to leave time.

The behind, the beyond, where linear-ality

Makes memories from experiences hazy and in pain,

Cobbling together enlightenment in the best way it knew how:

Watching and listening with senses too dull to marvel,

But sharp enough to dress duality in wild colors.

A heart open enough to make the world dance

When all it did was sit still.