This is farther West, where the West gives way
To dry mountains like tinder kegs, gunpowder
Ridges limned with lighting and fire as Summer
Gives way in anticipation of the Final Summer
Of our Lost Earth, burning beneath the madness
Of a race of monsters, a brain of dwarf; Farthest
West this desiccated wilderness suddenly softens
And the ocean takes over from the land, peace
Of the deep struggling with itself, with world,
Wishing to survive, wanting to be the nursery
Of life it always was, waiting perhaps for a distant
Shore when we are here no more and peace
No longer has to fight to be, sometime soon
On the great arc that we can scarcely conceive.
There’s a twilit jackrabbit in the shallow valley
Just over the ridge, a shadow flashing darkly
From stone-like stillness to quiet silhouette.
There are daytime raptors still circling behind
Me, turning and turning in a widening gyre.
The sun fades and the night sky is a million
Shades of blue until black is all that’s left,
A half moon glowing bright like a signal
Lamp set by the sun, dark side iron gray,
And the stars begin to throw themselves
Across the only heaven there can be, more
By far than grains of sand on a beach, far more
Than the likes of us, indifferent to our eyes,
Our world, everything but time itself, the measure.
Here in the West the day is done, our day over.

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