The End

The shadows of the earth grow short, For everything that is upstanding Must soon be level in the sun. The dialectic of the day and night Collapses to a synthesis In the numb medium of red twilight, for everything that is of two Must be one. The slow untroubled circling of the moon Goes frantic as it spirals in, Bulges, breaks, and smashes all, For everything that is in balance Must fall. And now, low in the dim sky, the red sun, That has consumed itself for time And fed all the hungers of the earth, Will settle the sum of no and yes, And briefly incandesce.

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