A Word the Size of Jupiter

Lloyd, wise, grey and stone You and I know where entropy leads An infinite library of cold books stretched to their last sentence

The second law of thermo-linguistics states that nothing is ever written, nothing is ever deleted All is translated

Since we left, they have found new letters, Not the living ones in CAGT, The ones from the alphabet from before when words and pages were one another They dance—spin they say It is hard to stay still when there is no space and no time to rest

Can your name counteract the loss of hope dissipated by the friction of indifference in this London City

Imagine my words marking this space time slingshot by the mass of yours Truly, stone— Jupiter’s mass will be nothing to yours.