Flight Of The Angel

fly, winged messenger of light

to the farthest gateway in space

there, at the center

of the most ancient galaxy,

spinning at a distance so remote

you…even you…would taste of Time

before you’d reach its borders

having taken flight from the earth

at quasi-infinite velocities

 

fly to that portal in the void

to that doorway in the darkness

a cyclone which spins about

inside a gulf of space and time

and there, enter into its mouth

and be swallowed up whole

into the universe next door

wholly apart from ours

and fly from there, quickly now

to the most distant wormhole

within that neighboring reality

and enter that cosmic gateway in turn

into yet another realm

a universe all its own

and continue on, proceeding thus

with each jump you make

delivering ever greater majesties

exotic glories that even you

have yet to see

 

and if you keep going on

far enough out on this journey

you will come to an abode

the last and final abode

out of which there is no escape

for beings made of matter

entities of the corporeal kind

and arriving, initiate your search

scanning the surface of the worlds

for she is out there, somewhere

trapped within a gilded cage

crying within the sunlit gardens

of crystal palaces glowing with the light

of twin stars shining in her sky

 

and when your quest is ended

deliver unto her this message:

that I will wait for her,

though she know me not,

until the end of time

until the shores of Eternity

are suddenly upon us,

when her chains, torn asunder

free her to fly up and away

upward, from realm into realm

past my own, where I weep now

into regions of supernal gravity

 

here is where we’ll be

finally, at the end of it all

where that divine force,

drawing in substances unseen,

presses them together, into one

into a single point, infinitesimal

making them not close, not closer

but of one composition

she and I, though one and the same,

still holding onto selfhood

a paradox, a mystery

only God may resolve