The Final Descent
I reach for the end, though the end will not reach for me.
It has already reached for him.
He is gone
while I, locked in Judecca’s ice,
go on and on.
If I could name the nameless thing
My father burns, and living worms fall from his eyes.
They spew from his sundered flesh.
They pour from his open mouth.
It burns, my father cries. It burns!
His contagion, my inheritance.
If I could face the faceless thing
From the fire’s depths, I hear the discordant duet of their screams. I watch them dance in the final, fiery waltz.
My mother and father, dancing in flames.
If I could pull the two apart
If I could untangle the knot
Find one errant strand to tug
And lay out the thing from end to end
But there is no beginning nor ending nor anything in between
Beginnings are endings
And all endings are the same.
Time is a line
But we are circles.