Here is the record of the last puff of air
released hot in the icy atmosphere
denouement of the last sentient being
cradled in the nook of Orion’s Arm
Milky Way wasteland at the end of everything
as the galaxy dissolves, denatures into elements
Collapsing 113.61 billion years from the beginning
bearing witness to cycles of life and death
seedlings’ searching for light and warmth in the dark
recoiling to the soil as the sun fades
hearth fires extinguished as the universe
accelerated expanding and abandoning life
as every moment became the past
We were left behind in the aging light
the dimming before, burnt to an ember
Can it know this is the last thought?
Will it conceive of the almost infinite
thoughts that came before or mourn
that no thought will ever follow?
Perhaps it will be seized with
existential dread at the horror
or be rapturous with numinous delight,
assured that in any number of
infinite, finite universes, it is reborn
or seek succor in the infinite continuity,
A mathematical elegance that lives on
infinite paradoxes ensconced in a perfect sphere
transfinite numbers where the cardinality
of the subset equals the cardinality of the set,
enabling what is otherwise impossible
Light will never be fast enough to save us
from this dark fate, its tendrils too weak
its reach falls short, its existence finite
Chromapoetica 