Thanksgiving Now
This planet is the farthest flung outpost,
of what?
We know we are the verge,
the utter outer rim of everything else,
yet direction and point of aim
around the edge of the immeasurable
are as meaningless
as depth without surface,
The Center of the incomprehensible
has promised us
that we are the very pulse of all that is
or ever will be.
We are not lost in space,
or any construct of time,
we're just stuck in the mathematics
between beginnings
and endings.
Nevertheless,
thank you for showing up.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2024
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