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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

The End of the World

I read about the end of the world.
How earth died under storm and ice.
How the sea became rock,
and the waves flew off
never to be heard again.
But my world will end before this,
and my beloved children
will disappear like rainbows after rain.
We will not see exodus.
How every face will disappear.
How a piano’s music will lie
shattered in its wood.
We can no longer hold each other’s
dreams.

I put the book aside
reciting this sad tale.
Took a glass to my garden
and gave a toast to light,
to the sun,
to life,
to air
which filled my lungs with purity,
whispered all the names
of those I love,
and those who will be loved.
Everything I looked at,
trees, flowers, sky,
until my arm ached with rising,
my heart accepted sorrow,
and Providence,
and the end that comes to all of us
turned to silence inside me.

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