Ends are like beginnings

Except that nothing comes after

Abrupt like the crash of hurricane winds

On unboarded windows and tin roofs

Tornadoes on cars

Or gunshots into flesh,

And that has proven to be all

The end of a circle is its beginning

And a mobius has neither beginning nor end

But in concept they were always the same anyway

So it seems reasonable that they’d blend

Reality burns, falls, drops, and fades away

Destruction feeds on itself to further chaos,

And from chaos ultimately rises form; and form gives birth to creation;

Thereby destruction is one in the same

Both ends of the tape of existence; circle, line, and mobius

All that was, no, is, or someday will be

Beginnings and endings are escutcheons for the pained realness of reality

Imagining or creating a tangible end,

The it or the now becomes infinitely more valuable

Because it is finite.