It’s the heat of the long-awaited moment,
singeing hair and melting fingerprints
until we all look the same –
charred, harried zombies –
to the government investigators,
that allows us to forge new alloys.
Here, at the end of time,
we have the clearest view
of those last few actions available us.
Entropy has all but won;
I’d raise my glass,
but I have a few more minutes.

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Poetry, photos, musing

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