The Way the World Ends

I am staring at the secret
where the water meets the sky
and the horizon still believes
in all the clouds that whistle by.
I feel the wind that runs its fingers
through the grasses, through the sky,
wind that blows and glows the embers
of something small to keep me high.

The world is growing softer
-It erodes more every day,
and the rock wears into sand
that melts into the sea
so that all along the jagged coast
the line is giving way
but the tumble of the cliffs and plants
is irrelevant to me.

This is the way the world ends
-in the corrosive tang of spray,
in the actions of white horses,
the only sure thing is decay
while the rock becomes the sand
becomes the glass becomes the pane.
In the secrets of horizons
we are beaten down by rain
while infinite dark forces
are giving birth to stars.

This is the way the world ends
-not with panes but broken shards.

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