End of Days
Everything is still and separate.
Doris Kareva, “I don’t know if all roads lead to truth”
The blades of grass stand up, no two alike,
green by its own projection lamp,
tipped like a fingerprint.
The grains of sand point in different directions
that end where they started
after researching the wheels’ revolutions.
The sea stops and separates
into loaves and fishes.
Look! The sea has stopped.
We may approach the water with our baskets.