Prepare
for the end of time.
Practice the mysterious art
of bewilderment.
Spread translucent tear-stained wings
and pulsate at a frequency so fast
it stills you.
This is how you rise into
the
kingdom of the hummingbird,
far above the ministry of fear.
This is how you enter
the
holographic quantum crystal
of the present moment,
a sphere of gratitude
where there is no entropy,
no mind-leak into
past and future,
which
are only thoughts.
Here's the secret: tell everyone!
The end of time is this breath.
Have you shattered the ampule
of your wound-fragrance?
Somewhere in these
petals of fire
there is nectar for the one
who is not afraid of drowning.
Dwell in the uncertain
and call it possibility.
Drink from the unknown
and call it wine.
Savor the softest inhalation
through your broken heart
and call it bread.
This feast is better
than a thousand right answers.
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