ANOTHER ENDING

Brush aside illusions with swift hand motions,

Dig into soft layers of contentment and hope,

Ignore fine-tuned narratives of time and place,

Throw out well turned questions and answers,

Clear dirt from artifacts and dinosaur bones,

Search for jumbled, incongruous masses

Beneath sensible layers of construction.

Look for chaotic bogs of amalgamated left overs,

Remnants of what has been stirred, 

Stewed and brewed into embryonic soups;

Sniff out sweltering cauldrons of odds and ends,

Punctuated bits, parsed, and fused;

Listen for gurgling mud pots, too hot to touch,

And quaking lava domes ready to erupt.

Endings are there, smelted and hammered,

Forged into shadows of themselves. 

Every book’s last words are scrawled and illegible;

Every calendar’s end days are scrambled in a heap;

Every clock’s midnight hours are sprung and unwound;

Every last word spoken is swallowed in silence.

Another ending will abide here.

Being is found here.

©cmheuer, January 1, 2017