A back-up plan

When uncertainty is the most certain thing in a world where worlds are woven in spinning wheels from long streams if plastic wires that flow like rivers in reverse from the sea to mountaintops booing gravity and the magnets that hang North-South poles while white bears are busy hunting fish in the river that runs in reverse beneath thick sheets of ice casting shadows on super-computers that are busy computing the distance between the star that was born the very day that time was born and the other star which was born the day before the day that time was born carbon copy duplicates whirring fans cooling down thinking computer brains and gears that are mere blurs inside black tin sheet boxes meant to protect the fine circuitry of the electronic brain computer machines diode and transistor valves thin aluminum line nerves conducting an orchestra and little bits of electric shock down the spine of a machine that refuses to believe that the end of the world is near right next to the other day asleep along the margins of the horizon when the rays of sun change colour from purple to something else a nameless colour or become something else altogether – like a writer who is in a constant state of hurry to finish a novel or a story that grows on without an end and everyone at the zoo is surprised to see a writer who is a mere transformation of the colour purple of a sunset on the evening of the longest day of the year almost towards the end and their nostrils flare up wide in wonder as do their eyes and mouths