In endless aqua ocean

droplets of infinity cascade.

Somewhere far away

carbon copy of me

is drinking rum and coca cola.

In this other world

I am completely different

than I am in this cosmos

dancing or weeping

for the world I’ve never met.

A Camelot never explored

but stretching, beckoning

outside my horizons.

I am significant here

but nonexistent there.

What if the perfect man for me

lives in a different universe?

Never the twain shall meet.

His soul has crossed

into other realms

where I don’t exist.

I fall asleep with his visions

and awaken to reality

in another universe

with person unknown.

Standing on the ledge of space

will I teeter into dark abyss

or stand tall where I am?

Loops or strings

Bubbles, vibrations, or portals.

The form doesn’t matter,

so much as the fact.

Our multiverse is infinite,

which means that we are infinite.

We exist in all times and all places.

We can never die.

Does that mean we’ve never lived?

Past, and present, and future are only terms.

Time is an organizational convenience,

not a set fact.

Our reality is relative

and we’re all related.

We are peasants, and worms, and dirt.

We are gods.

We are all things for all time.

We exist for a moment and

for eternity.

May as well enjoy it

as we learn to understand

and control it.

Bold intellect soar

Universe whisper secrets

Cosmos gaze in awe.

Concentrate the will

Explain time's brief history

Mysteries unravel.

Clay cannot contain

The wanderlust of spirit

Unbroken, unchained.

Unravel

Or don't

Unwind

Infinite lefts

Infinite rights

And infinite betweens

Yet I still don't see the path

I'm meant to follow

Water flowing off an edge

Falls in all directions

Or none

Like our time through space

Affecting all possibilities

Like undoing

A simple ball of...

Is the universe infinite?

Or just our imaginative minds?

Just reach out with that mind,

To something that makes sense.

If you go far enough,

you might hit your home.

Keep going even farther,

you might hit wonderland.

Stay right where you are,

Look around, and then,

You'll spot a familiar eye,

Your own to be exact.

It's a mess on complex,

True, too much for most,

'Tis why there is little talk,

Of all it until now.

Quilted and Brane,

Cyclic, Quantum,

Holographic and

Ultimate multiverses,

To name a few, created

they say, by the eternal

chaotic inflation

generating all the multiverse.

Multiple universes,

different universes with

different psychics, worlds,

creatures and creations.

Magical places, with beings,

literally out of this world,

That can tell so much,

of a world elsewhere.

In theory, friction, gravity and movement are properties that appear to bring a semblance of orderly orbits to the entities that comprise the universe, or what we know as planets, sun, moon, and stars. The significance of this theory is that friction is not finite. Orbital paths may burn out and create collisions of planetary entities. The ensuing debris may be sucked into a black hole by solar winds, or the debris may hit the sun and cause explosions that affect the climate on planet earth. Changes may take billions of years, but change is inherent in the chemistry of geological composition. One slight shift of the earth's axis and the world as we know it will become something different, and maybe not capable of sustaining human life. That's the reality that emerges from theory.

It is not an accident that human life is relatively short and concludes with the composition of dust. We burn out from physical friction & movement even when gravity holds our feet to the ground. The same principle applies to objects in the universe. Change is inevitable, and the curiosity to speculate on change is exciting for a non-scientist like me who must now stop thinking big thoughts and string dinner together.

I watch the news, upset about the recent issues with various terrorist groups wreaking havoc across the globe. Lines crinkle across my forehead and in between my eyebrows as I listen to the reporter speak about the latest bombing. Sometimes I wonder why we are here, why the universe has let us live on. All we do is kill and hurt each other and then we die. What's the point in keeping us around?

Little did I know, Earth was sitting on the shelf in a little boy's room, in another universe far away. The boy had to turn it in for a science project, for they had to create a universe for his teacher Miss Cloche's class. He got a C on that project, for all of the world's inhabitants started to kill each other. Now Earth sits on his shelf among other worlds, no smaller than a marble, doing nothing but collecting dust.

I hope I matter in some way

My significance is great to me

I love how the world smiles only for me

My own universe, and I am living in it

I am leading it

So are you.

So is she.

So is he.

Our lives are not our own

Each dewy line of universe

Cross over each other artfully

Webbed into one twinkling home

Sparkling in the dawn

There we are at the beginning.

I can not look back, there is no place for me to look back to.

That is another's path.

And following another's ghost, or running from it,

see after-images of my own ghost. Turning other ways.

A brief glimpse of their "before", not their "after."

I try not to land a dead-end.

But am I the one that is running this maze?

Or an after-image, on of a choice more hesitantly made or quickly made?

With only glimpse of the others, the ghosts that run from or after the ghost who made this maze.

I wonder if there will be a time to see all the exits, if there is a way to know all the endings.

But I do not kid myself, the only end I will be able to see is my own. 

Is this the fate's way of laughing at me? Or is this the punishment of my own self-made destiny?

The only thing I know I didn't make is this maze, but even that certainty is getting hazy.

I see it! My ending! A bright shining light from all the worn down turns and twists. Of all the meet-up an partings. This is it, the accumulation of all my turns in this maze.

Do I want it to end? Or do I want to turn back and run? Get lost in the maze again to see if I can find another brighter ending...

Or maybe I am missing my own ghosts?

I close my eyes and take my hands to the holders of the ending, or are they the new runners of a new beginning.

I will not open my eyes, I cannot look forward now. That is another's path. One where they chase after or run away from my last ghost.

The alarm goes off, trilling me awake. I leave the warmth of the sheets and her. She stirs, mutters something that might be words. I walk through to the bathroom, passing the photo of us smiling on a beach, I can't remember which one. We look happy. We might still be, we never ask. The light in the bathroom is bright enough to see by, so I don't switch on the blinding overhead. Maybe a dimmer bulb would work?

I piss away another night's drinking. My head's as full as my bladder's now empty. I need sleep, but the booze isn't working. Maybe if I lie down it'll come. I go to the bedroom, passing the photo of us on the beach in Cornwall. We were happy then. It's still too dark, I need the daylight, it chases away the dark thoughts.

I hit the snooze button a third time. I check my phone. There's a message from her. It always makes me smile, but a holiday romance is never a good idea to keep going, although it's nice to keep in touch, and she is keen. It was a happy time. Maybe we should meet again. I stir at the thought, but bat it away. Cornwall was a year ago. I've got other fish to fry.

Coffee, I need coffee! The run was good, the smoothie's buzzing. Weekend's coming, and so is she. A nice two days of fun, although I'm a bit worried about the 'We need to talk' text. I hope it's not signalling a desire to get more serious. I'm happy with the way things are, it's like revisiting the holiday once a month. Still, for now the daylight's in full swing and it's off to work.

I could walk to work another way, but I can't help myself. I can't stop looking in either. I can't help but hope she'll come out as I pass. I think about the photo of us on that holiday. I wonder if she still has it hanging on the landing. How could we have gone from being so happy to this? I've got some time to kill so I'll head to the cafe to get my head together.

The waitress looks like her. Same hair, the same tilt at the corner of the mouth. I wonder what would have happened if I'd have had the guts to go for it, Pete said she was a good lay. Maybe I should get in touch, but it was a year ago, she probably won't even remember me. She might be happy to chat though. Maybe tomorrow.

She's blocked me. First she stopped answering my messages and now this. She doesn't get it, we found something on that beach. A spark, I know she felt it too, you can see it in the photo. Fucking bitch led me on, but she doesn't realise the truth. I could make her happy. I just need to make her see that. I think I need to go there, she'll understand if it's face to face.

Everywhere I go I see her. Every girl has her face. A reminder of her as she was. Before me. Before I did what I did. But she deserved it. I was the only one who could have made her happy, she rejected me, so she had to go. I had to do it. It broke my heart but you have to do what's necessary, don't you? But now every day's the same, like I'm trapped in a photograph, a single moment in time.

That's what life is. A trap. Fate is fate, the script is written, and there's nothing we can do about it.