Summer’s Ending Soon

Summer is what summer has always been.

It’s that moment in July

When you realize,

“Summer’s ending soon,”

And there is not a thing you can do

To stop the turning of the Earth,

Or the motions of the planets,

Or the revolution of the stars in their orbits

Around some distant galactic hub

Which I have and will never see,

Yet am assured by the most veritable authorities

Exists,

Somewhere impossibly distant from here,

Beyond the boundless distance between the stars,

Across time and space,

Itself turning with the eons,

Hurtling through space

On a collision course with its neighbor,

And I suppose I can relate

But then again, maybe not;

Maybe there are just some things beyond

The boundaries of what is relative and relatable

To the human experience,
Which is also something

I have never seen,

But which my humanity,

And your humanity,

And our collective humanity

Demands the existence of.

Summer is what summer has always been –

Our humanity at its finest,

Life and death balanced together on the edge of a knife,

Dancing with one another on the head of a pin,

Which brings into question once more

Just how many angels can, in fact,

Dance their divinity away on such a surface;

I say that the answer lies somewhere near the square root

Of the number two;

No one else seems to agree.

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