Has to happen, although
It’s unlikely to be
Marked as such. You can know
Where all the stars will be
By your calculations.
It’s inevitable,
Unless something crashes
Into the Earth so hard
Everything stops spinning.
Then there won’t be more years.
Once you start that what if
Thinking—what if black holes
Swallow up the sun,
What if time’s fabric rips,
What if?—you realize,
The year twenty-thousand
Itself’s what-if fiction.
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