The Final Lie Poem by Kurt Philip Behm

Numbers have a lasting smell
while figures have a taste
Shapes can make an ancient sound
whose feelings stay untraced

Intuition grants a wish
to those who rebegin
Dimension in the blackest hole
new dwarf stars from within

Counting up or counting down
deception stays the same
What you gain or what you lose
redundant in the game

Endings come and endings go
ephemerally despised
Until the sacrificial lamb
—bleats out the final lie

(Dreamsleep: January,2023)