Sevengem

It must always come to this; foresight
alone cannot spur my flight.

You did not err.
I did: my ear
twisting fact into farce,
deaf, defying, denying.

The threshold surpassed,
I, a mere mirage, collapse.

Why must I start at the beginning?
Because, try as you might, you can’t not.
The point you deem the end is a beginning.
Always something sparking,
something else burning out.

You shouldn’t be here.
False intoxicated cool;
foolish bravado moved your feet
in their too-small boots,
your hot pink safety net torn to shreds.
The present is restless:
a life and your death
the sum of history and butterfly wings.

There’s an audible click,
the gun, the solution
  and a long cry
    and the big bang.
      Consciousness gained in repose;
a masterpiece animated
  for me
    alone.

In your wake,
  I mend.