Someday there will be nothing.
I will walk into the room of the world
and it will be empty.
I will live in the catastrophe of winter.
Tell me how music is resurrected
from the keyboard of astounding sound.
How light is collected
in the crystal of a glass.
How the shadows of the past
are pressed neatly in a box.
Then I will tell the magic boy,
it’s ok.
I have special glasses for your eyes.
Hearing aids that amplify
the sounds of summer,
the breathing of the air,
the beat of a rabbit’s heart
synchronous to your own.
Tents made of blankets,
where time snuggles next to you,
and you can touch the world
at the end of your fingers,
then you can open up again,
and the words inside will run away.
And we can remember the future
and go there,
where we belong.