One Day the Sun
One day the sun, grown old and corpulent,
will scoff the last of all our fears and hates,
those sour apples past their sell-by dates;
the fiery stomach quenched but discontent.
Then nothing shall remain, not even dreams,
but love will find a space behind the void,
since only nothing can be undestroyed
and zero is the sum of all our schemes,
according to the whisper of the ghost black choir
at two point seven kelvin, radio nought,
one sixty gigahertz FM; where hate and love
are merely eigenstates of one desire,
where true and false are mingled in one thought:
that you, here, now, are all it means to live.
YOU ARE READING
One Day the Sun: A Collection
PoetryA collection of poems entered for the Attys awards, 2012. The judges were kind enough to shortlist this work and I thank them for that recognition. Biggest thanks, however, go to you, dear reader.
