I am like Animal
Of death, I remember nothing,
just vast black space.

Like him,
I lived through it
and in time that still seems to pass,
I find the inner meaning
of peace

sal-lah-mim.

All possibility,
not just some, but all,
laid out here, in the timeless,
though the mind recoils,
claiming overwhelm.

But I am not overwhelmed.
I am dead,
and my sight is adjusting
so that all this black space
now seems like the endless
circles in Arrival, each overlayed
on the other in the infinite
permutations of One pen,
playing eternal love.