The clouds have been kind for once.
I have no other choice than to lie
in a field and let the sun dry me out.
This moment hangs. Birds hover,
suspended instead of swooping.
Luxuriating in the magnificence
of just being, I half close my eyes.
In the edges of my weak vision,
uncountable universes multiply
trillions spinning from every second,
slight variations on every rule.
Where this pleasant sun burns
too fast and too bright. Where I am in this
same field but with a stranger.
Where the ice age never ended.
Where I never was and would never be.
Gasping, I open my eyes and try to hold
the infinite kalidescope still,
but inevitably the glass shatters.
The possibilities reduce down to one.