The dead end that I dreaded
confronts me in this
true statement!
It’s apt, manageable, but
valid only in its locked cabinet.
There’s no finality out here: a sphere
too vast, too growthful, too
mischievous; subject as well
to swellings, violent
combustion, whizzings off
along the light-years.
There’s too much
of us for us to know.
But closing heart, and ear
is a terminus I
fear, too.
We slam
into it, often, though knowing is a peril
almost as terrible as
never being sure
where
the dead end will
appear.