we came into being,
and besides this one
absolute truth
we knew for sure,
the only other thing we could ever know
with any certainty,
was that at some time,
we would also come
into unbeing.
and just like at 40,
when we feel the first icy droplet
of the end that will come calling,
trickle down the backs of our necks,
and start running for our lives;
i ran for us.
to hold those two ratty ends,
those two frayed and tattered ends,
together, to will them back,
with these hands
that also, yes, that also
unravelled them.
we unravel it all
trying to find the other end,
until it is only time itself,
the start and the finish;
still, with jelly needles
we try to stitch it together,
so the middle, the long
coiling intestines of us,
doesn’t fall out
onto the floor, or messy
and bloody, into our laps.
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