The End of Things Just Becomes Other Things

We acted as if there was always going to be
another tomorrow tucked conveniently
in the folds of the wrappings
of the edges of the day

The overlaps were laziness
of ice cream stains and extra socks
tucked in the shoes we brought for church
but never had to wear

And sunsets slipped softly over the sea,
pushing precious particles of silver sand
into the endless oblivion
of abstract dimensions and scientific theories

Until the moment swiftly came
when there was nothing left to gain
and the inevitable existential crisis
wrapped its infinite arms around the moon

And we launched ourselves into the sky
to float away from the dreams of scenes
of crystal waters capturing
fluttering rainbows of mystery fish

All boxed up in a memory
a souvenir of distant things
to sit and gaze into from reality
like a snow globe holding a frozen picture

While chaos and haze spin around us

Reality revealing itself in the background

Significant and beautiful in its own way I suppose

There's never enough time to have it all