No Longer Ours
This End of Time ~ Philip Brent Harris
The end of an era, so-called.
Not the end of all, perhaps.
Unknown for now, until
Some future now, connected;
Contiguous, not, in theory, continuous.
Then, is that us, gone?
Merely an era in time, between,
No relationship but time, flowing,
A rolling stream, raging
River, fed by tributaries or, one
Embodied in rich sound, lush,
Like Smetana’s Moldau, grown.
Our humble beginnings, meager,
Trickles, rills, brooks mix, swelling,
Combining, conflicting, spreading,
Strong, inexorable, flooding to, climax.
Lost in vastness, subsumed.
Sliding into oblivion, dénouement,
Within the cosmic ocean, space.
All with all mixed, randomly.
Disparately combinable, infinite;
Drawn into the cloudy realm, creation,
To rain new patterns, life.
Upon this world, no-longer-ours.
Peace is Purpose, Nonviolence is Strength, Diversity is Unity, Empathy is Empowerment
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