Are we at that point yet?
When all glass houses shatter
And bubbles burst on the spikes at the perimeter
And we begin the way through to the end
The end of our own undoing.
Are we there yet? I ask it, fidgeting
My question cycles back to me echoing
So it’s time for the gates to open
They must before freezing over
No excuses as we go
Let’s reach this end, let’s usher it in
With our own hands
We swim in destiny
And we get out, refreshed
🎨/📷 by Dorothea Tanning, Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, 1943