it's peaceful here at world's end
despite images of ships sailing over the edge into terra incognita
despite the echo of Eliot's "not with a bang but a whimper"
and the sudden vision of black, thick, gooey water snuffing out life.
an ancient oak patiently engulfs a stoney outcrop,
cries of children and running feet break the silence and fade away,
a myriad of tiny creature deconstruct a fallen branch, returning it to the earth.
all this is true
here at the end of the world
all this, and everything else in this moment -- in every moment.