I think of the few I harbor
today, knowing that tomorrow
but one of us will die, leaving
the rest behind—you must figure,
it’s not likely we’ll disappear
at once, altogether done in
by a single catastrophe . . .
oh, what a hoot that would be!
On the other hand, such
a denouement does happen,
so it’s thinkable, just not probable.
More than likely we’ll wither
away on the vine of circumstance
one by one, one at the time, by
way of initial conditions . . .
ah, the big bang then big fang!
Still, ’tis my very best guess,
the end will prove to be but
a new beginning . . . unless
one can figure out a way
to turn loose the mortal coil
and, like the beloved salmon,
swim up stream to the clearest light . . .
empty many, One Only!
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