I Can See the End of the World from Here

Open sky. Mute clouds distant.

Everything moves delicately
through the thickness of time.

Every angle of view seems askew.

One girl chances against fear
to do something inviting.

I don’t know how to respond. In theory,
I’m already dead, gently buried
in asking:

What if life is only a dream–not
in one’s head but in the gaseous perception
of some mercurial being
who has sunshine in her heart
but a cruel size?

I ask you this
because I cannot have what I love
and eternity to weep over it.

Copyright 2011 by Michael Marsters.
All rights reserved.


10 thoughts on “I Can See the End of the World from Here

  1. I also could’ve written those last lines…but at least creating poetry, or anything that can reach out and comfort others (as sometimes the expression of regret/sadness/depression does) is something positive. Hopefully, that is a little consolation for you too.

    And your verse is something quite lovely out of such a personal experience. Thanks for sharing.


  2. Michael, this was achingly sad and beautiful at the same time. The last lines were stunning. It’s from our depressions and heartbreaks and other slights, big and small, that poetry often springs. And isn’t it nice when you hear, “I thought it was just me. Thanks for understanding before I even told you.” Eternity to weep, indeed. Bless you for this! Amy


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