In the end, I’m feeling

More and more

There won’t be any end

No ice walls

No frozen firmament

To clearly define

The corners and lines

Of a divine invention

So paper-thin

You see right through it

But I bet

When you can’t find an edge

By a map half-written

It could feel like the end

To have to keep going

The inkwells

Of prophecy

And cartography

Dried up long ago

They’re hoarse from speaking

Of our studied hesitation

To shoulder the weight

Of our bad-bеhaving

When Atlas shrugs

Whose back is breaking?

And I know

How it feels to thе hands

Heavy as the heavens

A weight that could fold you

To keep holding

Well, you’ll stand

Like you stood as a babe

Tugging at the house plants:

All on your own

Honest and truly

You’ll rise, like land

Pulled up at the sound of some strange commandment

A moon alight

Reflecting fully

And I guess

It would feel like rebirth

Out of some kind of dying

To see yourself so glowing