Until the End of the World

(By Sil, the 15th of March, London)

We’re here to build
Castles in the sand
To bestow wings on angels
To dabble in the puzzle
Of reality
Tugging hard
At the fraying seam of
Human certainty

Absorbed by wonders
Encoded in divine slang
Our brief existence
Is the window
Through which
A mourning Universe
Catches reflections of
Its lost symmetry
Before the Bang.

We’re starspit.
Unholy because
Nothing holds
This world;
A rubber-band jerked skip
Between too hot
And too cold.

In the galactic
Delayed backstory
We saw our future.

A true prophecy:
When the warped Alchemist
Is done transforming
Gold into Lead
When the stellar fire is out
Then
The End will come
Chilled unhingement from
Quantum attraction
Welcome respite
A licence to surrender
The rock of
Perpetual reaction.