I dreamed last night of an apocalypse.
It was the end of everything,
in a flash of colors never seen
before. There was no escape.
And no denying the majestic beauty
of the destruction that rained down.
TVs across the city, in homes
and storefronts, were interrupted
with static, until the dropped
microphone in a TV news studio,
broadcasted the fears of those
My god… a meteor… has struck… the earth.
I looked out my 5th floor window
at the sky – a brilliant canvas
of deeply magical hues, splayed
like an incandescent van Gogh,
and in the distance
I saw a giant purple vortex,
I was frozen, paralyzed
in awe, until my shock began to thaw
into a quiet grin. A grin that grew
and grew, like the terrifying vortex,
until I finally laughed out loud.
I laughed at the ironic majesty
of earth’s inevitable but glorious destruction.
And I laughed at the insidious horror
of my own laugher as I began to suspect
that perhaps I was witnessing more.
More than earth’s mere apocalypse,
and more than the end of my own existence.
Maybe, just maybe, in the center
of that terrifying purple vortex –
was the beginning of something new.
And then I awoke,
reaching out across the sheets,