by Scott Hughes
So it all comes down to this: Life begins
to dwindle—the heavens no longer turn.
The seas and clouds and thoughts refuse to churn,
and, underfoot, the earth has ceased to spin.
Our blood is suspended beneath our skin.
But the cosmos is none of our concern,
and it all comes down to this: Life begins
to dwindle, the heavens no longer turn.
The planet loses its pull on us—then,
like dying suns, our bodies ebb and burn,
becoming more than flesh, the mortal urn.
We travel—our essence boundless, golden.
So it all comes down to this: Life begins.