Time Poem

So here I am at the edge of that time-space thing
And it is hard to describe except to say
That the atoms sure are big out here.
And beyond the edge cannot be described except to say
That it isn’t what you think.
It is not a mist or a haze
Or a wall or a blackness
And you do not see up to it or into it
Because the end is the end and it doesn’t fall off into
Another dimension either, which is what I expected at first.
And it feels like where I am is expanding
Really fast
And carrying me with it along with those
Really big atoms.
And I am asked,
“How did you get here anyway, this is my place?”
“Well, I can’t really say,” I say
“But you are the God of all Gods so
You must know…
Don’t you?”
“I’ll ask the questions here,” I was told
By the he/she/it of things.
And I replied
That that was
Okay with me. So we shared the silence of the edge of everything for a long eon or two
While I found I could contemplate everything without even having to
Think about it.
“Say, where am I anyway,” I finally asked.
“Uh uh, you’re doing it again,” I was admonished.
“But then, just this once, I will let you ask me about my business.”
“That sounds familiar,” I thought,
Reassured that the Godfather really had captured all there was to know.
“You have come, you have not risen.
You have arrived on a rope of anomaly
To the ever-moving supreme unction junction.”
“Oh,” I thought.
“No need to shout,” I was again admonished.
“You heard that?” I asked.
“Thou art verily a really slow learner, and
That’s three strikes and you’re out,” It said, I heard, I felt,
I knew.
And that was the end
Of everything for me.
And if you are reading this, indeed, you have not yet gotten there—
But you will.