The Black Fume

The Black Fume

Degree drops from

The digital display.

Once as hot as hell

Now unbearably less.

There is a coolness

For the damned.

In the soft yellow-orange of sunset,

There may yet be respite.

For the meek there

Is nothing, not till

The very end.

They don’t shelter

In the glory of shadows

And the rising and the setting

of all things celestial.

Their wait is longer –

Bound in time,

If legitimate,

But maybe not their lifetime,

And therefore,

They may never know.

“If I die into nothing

I will forever remain ignorant,

Unknowing as to

My own fate.”


[And this will be the only true infinity. Timeless. Unbound. Nothing!]



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