Calm.
Breathing.
Strange that I’m at peace,
considering I’m
caught in the balances.
On one side,
Black Holes.
Infinitely dense,
no light escapes them.
Occasionally,
they vomit up
white hot plasma
and radiation.
On the other side,
a billion suns.
Burning incandescence.
Red Dwarfs and Pulsars,
running out of fuel
and imploding.
Collapse and go super nova.
Not the kind of neighborhood
you really want
to hang around in.
Stuck in the middle,
but I’m nowhere near
the hinge pin.
The fulcrum of this is not
something I will sway upon.
Maybe that’s why I’m so calm.
The balance tips
and all of us are gone,
but I’ve been singing
“So Long Marianne”
since I was a child.
I’ve been watching
everything die
for my whole life,
and violence;
oh, I’ve watched it smile,
and strut around in style.
Nevermind.
Guess I’ve got a good seat
for Armageddon.
No need to worry,
it’s out of my hands.
I will clap along
to the song
of the end of the universe.
It can always get worse,
but it damn sure
can always get better.
HG – 2020
