A Day Without Yesterday
And thus …
by Phillip Gallant
An indefinite singularity of imagination
Ripped through a lifeless pure black paltry,
To spew its cosmic gametes
Into a womb named time.
This alpha …
Of original realities to futures yet to be
Postulating inescapable apocalyptic illusory,
And unfolding the creativeness
Of consciousness itself.
So now …
Multiples of tomorrows upon tomorrows
Pollute the perfections of vast nothingness,
Leaving only globules of solar waste
Where there alone, is man!