She is radiant then, darkly luminescent
against the brilliant onrush of reality mauled,
stars and worlds shattered to pinprick devolution,
ready for the roar that explodes forth next.
It is then that I say it, before the resolve of
her question, her promise, her devotion
is wiped clean by the wave of all demise.
I say it or scream it across the nearness
that could be all undoing but for my Word...
yes, unto the blotting of all that birthed us;
yes, unto the maelstrom that starts all anew;
yes, unto the pain of that baneful rupture,
yes, cloven unto her until the stars anon
shudder forth from endless dark and we yet are us,
not gods, but the Last and the First regardless.