Something for Nothing


Finite.
What all good things come to
Where the stopping stops
and the entropy ends,
the inexorable slide
to the blackest of black holes.

Only,
that’s a lie,
isn’t it?

There’s no colour,
no possible description
just the knowledge that
this won’t go on.
Nothing goes on.
Nothing.
Not even the word for it.

Try snapping your fingers.
Then stop.
Now, that silence-
imagine that’s how everything goes.
And no-one there to listen
Not even god.

And remember, death
Is not a subtraction, a taking away
It’s a never having lived.

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5 thoughts on “Something for Nothing

  1. Insightful, and so poetic! I love “Where the stopping stops” and the way you er… end it – and you’re right, of course – it feels right (and makes me think with regret of times in my life when I’ve dragged my feel and called it living).

  2. An evocative one. Suppose the existence of death depends on what one conceives of as a full-fledged (yes, blessed) living as opposed to just being formally alive. Death’s but nonexistent.Thanks to the author!

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