Towards A Renascence of Nothing

For us old souls

Tending to flat

Preparing for

The worst of it

Including the sky’s

Eventual collapse

We must learn

To navigate sightlessly

Just like a bat

Through space time

Dimensionless and

Devoid of meaning

Into the stillness  

Of the evening

Pushing our

Ventricles open wide

Neither pinched or pained

Nor by gloom constrained

But held and sustained

In the durable mesh 

Of Indra’s net

For there

Where East meets West

Let our hearts take rest

With worldly knowledge

From all sides blessed