One day, we will wake up to long-evaporated oceans and fallen stars.
We will awake to a capsized Earth, shipwrecked onto some faraway planet overcome with bushes upon bushes of prickly roses. One day, all distances will shorten, all limits will be senseless.
We will meet in the kind of quiet that follows only destruction. Freed from everything we’d ever owned, every unnecessary thing we’d ever been. In a world shuddering out its last breaths, dying and inchoate all at once —because what is the death of one thing if not the beginning of another life?— we will tread long-evaporated oceans and flooded-out deserts, we will meet in the middle of all the things that don’t make sense. All the never-should-have-beens and impossibilities. We will pick out sea glass from the drowned out deserts, showered in falling leaves from the uprooted forests.
In a land without law or meaning, we’ll have ourselves a little bit of nothing. (Nothing to differentiate, nothing to be, nothing to lose).