The Death Of Death (Time And Space) Poem by Smoky Hoss

- 'There is, after all, something eternal that lies beyond the hand of fate and of all human delusions. And such eternals lie closer to an older person than to a younger one, oscillating between fear and hope.' -Albert Einstein in a letter to the queen of Belgium.

I stand in a receding twilight room
noticing them noticing me.
A thin window between us,
the roof seperates the sky and I.
Galaxies gather, in observation,
looking upon the world.
I feel small.
I hear the ontological hum of light years
passing between us.
They stare with eerie twinkling eyes.
I see their past, before my birth.
I gather them into my forming eyes,
illuminating my soul.
Finding myself weightless,
I leave this world, rising
like the light of mystical resurrection,
joining the life of the Universe. -
Like a dream in the space of deep sleep
I enter remembrances residing beyond
the holds of time, the habitation of hope
being forged in a past bound to the present and future.
A latitude where abstraction melds into the experiential,
enlightening everything.
Now, what was and what shall be
are always, have been.
There is no other time than this, and
everywhere is here.
A cosmic conjoining.
A mingling of ages.
Time, we shall find, knows the capacity of lingering.
Will it last, or all pass?
A monument, or merely an inevitable death,
unavoidable when life confronts the world's oppressive nature.
With what wisdom is this dark eve conceived?
Shall any light remain at dawn?
Any other than that of the old souls,
long since departed from the bodies of falling stars,
who now reside forever in quiet solitude -
There may be no answers
to the delusions of time and space;
only the choice to trust,
or not.
So, I breathe deeply, holding it all in,
look up and see the wonder, the awe,
the unspeakable beauty of sacrifice given
across the entire explosive universe,
the following of a passion worth dying over.
There, in the darkness above, is the incredible gift
of a trillion flowing, flowering lights,
looking at us, asking:
Wasn't the living worth dying,
to live forever more?
In response I answer
by opening the door that separates us,
and step into the night.
I feel the sweeping Embrace.
We are all connected,
here, now, in this,
the great death of death.