You know how it begins

With a single soft shove

Of two with the same kins

Or perhaps lack thereof,

By deliberate hand

Or luck of destiny

And the world becomes bland

To the heart’s mutiny,

From a single moment

Is born a universe,

From a single instant

The aeons can converse,

But upon this endless

Stream of all-possibles

Sits still a featherless

Pale creature that nibbles

Away at its own branch

In a sad, lonely stench,

And only time can stanch

The flow of its thirst quench,

Perhaps. That’s the promise.

If it is not fulfilled

There is much they will miss

And all space will be spilled…

But what if it were so?

What if fate was to let

The hand of its child go?

Will they have always met?

The colours are unknown

But the tune has been played,

The long past has been shown,

The future must be slayed.

Grand romantic is gone

Now brings always’ magic,

The greatest play is done

Let us cry the tragic.


Yes. No. In a thousand spaces lie a million times.

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