Garbage

right on up past our stories, the planets, moons, / and other bodies locally to the other end of / the pole where matter’s forms diffuse and / energy loses all means to express itself except / as spirit, there, oh, yes, in the abiding where / mind but nothing else abides, the eternal / until it turns into another pear or sunfish, / that momentary glint in the fisheye having / been there so long, coming and going, it’s / eternity’s glint: it all wraps back round, / into and out of form, palpable and impalpable, / and in one phase, the one of grief and love, / we know the other.