Poetry

Litanies Against Dying, 31 (213.)

There’s a glint of something
in a hole at the edge of the universe,
and it reflects off your smile,
your words, your actions,
they all shine with the light
of a thousand potential universes,
hundreds upon hundreds upon infinite
dimensions, and within one of these,
there’s an infinitesimal chance
that we kissed,
for one reason or another.
This tiny spark,
child of flint touching steel,
sets my heart aflame.
Though this reality is not mine,
its beacon lights my way.
Romance or no,
you’ve illumined a hundred dreary days
at least,
and I’m
eternally grateful to you.

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