Late Musings

What shape is the universe?

Musing, late at night,

on the fate of us all,

the shape of the universe,

the unreality of living.

Quiet, and alone.

No footsteps outside.

No voices next door.

Will it last?

I doubt it.

But who am I to doubt?

Or maybe who am I not to doubt.

But don’t get lost.

Be the smoke that rolls over it

and allow dreams to explain it all away

like Freud.

Or leave it unexamined

to Plato’s eternal dismay.

Either way leave it

whatever it is

and walk away.

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