At The End

At the End.

In hazy daydreams,
Rambling thoughts,
I would wonder
I would ponder
As I wander
Through these visions.
And I would see.

Would there be a you
Or me, or we,
Or would there be,
In simplicity,
Nothingness.
At the end.

For at the end,
Of thought, or time,
Could there be,
Blankness sublime,
No need to define,
What is left behind
At the close.

Yet nothingness,
Is somethingness,
And somethingness,
Is nothing.
When everything,
Is infinity, quite,
Which in itself,
Cancels itself,
To be nothing.

Picture white.
A shade, a colour,
A type of artist’s paint.
If nothingness,
Is simply white,
Or black, it might,
Then nothingness,
Is actually quite,
A something.

Imagine nothing.

At the end,
Of time and existence,
What shall remain?
If nothing,
Is something,
Something shall remain,
Possibility insane,
Think in bleak disdain,
Picture this.
In the future.

At the end.