by Shaun Lawton
All of humanity lying underneath within its cradle
born to die with nowhere else to fly
free to be alive the entire time
from the farthest back row the death of life
slides into view like a terrifying reverse eclipse
as a section of a city strip reflects off the visor
of a motorcyclist's helmet passing through.
The farther out the view into the future
the deeper magnified becomes death itself
until the dwarf planet Pluto gets revealed
in isolation while holding up its breath.
Our distance toward the event horizon line
diminishes in a shrinking acceleration
with a difficult to determine duration
left before our journey's jaunt is done.
We are only being destroyed in time;
across space, we are being built.
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