We live and love among other worlds,
I expect the end of the world,  
If it comes to find me,
Into what, I do not know.
I may write a poem to mark this transition
But I may be silent. Which is a relief. For some.
I think that I have the means and inclination
To make the attempt to be better than I am.
Though I know my wife is better still than I can ever be .
It is not easy for me to have this odd view of the multiverses without and within.
So I will go into the countryside so that I may be a little more enlightened, or at least quieter.
I do not mind the hot or cold, the dry or wet or the light or dark. It is just the transition that bothers me a little.
It is this state of trembling transition that causes me to rest here in this ripple-less backwater, writing intermittently and avoiding trouble
Especially when I think of: 
the story of the exploding super-nova leading a trio of allegedly wise men to a partial understanding of the random destruction of civilizations.
I must try to stay quiet about that. It's important.