At the edge lies an energy ribbon,
a curlicue encircles existence
shielding the fray from the outskirts,
creation’s earliest days, mere mortals.
A one-sided curve one travels in vain
to arrive at one’s self – again;
I’m queued up behind me behind me . . .
a thousand-fold, so I take a number
and wait my turn.
At the tip of the girdling swirl is an arrow
that forks and guides the ways home;
I’ve rigged my sails for the solar wind
with provision on-board for forever.
Experienced first-mates are hard to find
they fall overboard more often than not
so I plan to take this trip alone
to double my remaining days.
At the head of the line finally, I turn to face
all that I am recedes behind me,
a shimmer of motion, a cascade of farewell,
adoring throng, we will miss us.
Goodnight, Godspeed
pray all be well
this stark and starry flight.
© Chagall 2014
Alphabet City 