I have watched the stars grow dim,
one by one, seen them flicker,
at the end, candles snuffed
by the breath of a weary God.
Despair and desire hold hands before
the void, as worlds collapse, as one
cold rock remains, circling some dim
dying ember. Then I, too,
lose my footing, tumble into
inky oblivion. How long
might one fall when time itself
ceases and forever exists
no more? I have plumbed my past
and counted every star that was.
Stephen Brooke ©2013