At the edge of the earth

 

At the edge of the earth

at the end of the time and space continuum

water stands still     and the leaves of trees

hang unstirring.      Nothing breathes

nothing moves.

It must be something like

grief            when the large hole

that moved in synchrony with another

rose to greet him    breathed

almost in the same key

tempo determined by another’s

rhythms.

Now           the edge of earth opens

a vast desolation of darkness

where even heartbeats quiet

in the knowledge

that beyond that sharp knife edge

is nothing.