The infinite curse

Infinite curse


A fine place to

set up a lifetime.

A grain of sand has more cachet.


And what do I get.

Eighty years if I’m lucky.

Ninety if I’m not.

And how many years

are there in infinity?

How many lives?


If I knew I was

going to be this insignificant

I wouldn’t have bothered

learning to walk and talk,

or going to the bathroom on my own.


But of all the substances

that ever were,

here I am.

And of all the times

that have ever been

and ever will be,

this one’s happening now.


The coincidence is killing me.


By John Grey


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