Consumed by the inevitable End
I have chosen to die on the horizon
So no one can grieve for its illusion.
Time will always raise The Sun
Even when there are no eyes to see it,
No instruments to measure it.
It's we who create The End, mould it,
To fit in the frame of our own perspective -
A complete work of art.
So, why does the end never fully satisfy?
Because we know, without knowing, it is a lie
The End is such because someone draws a line
And to that end, we are all doing time,
Condemned by a fact:
That we will die.
Our sense of Time imprisons us
With the understanding that
Our sense of it will end.
And that leaves us here, with a choice:
I choose to die on the horizon,
Free, creating my own beautiful End,
Consumed.
