Never As Good As The Last Time

One day, a million years or greater hence,
The universe will be ripe, and so old,
That there will be no myst’ry or suspense
For heart or eye to ponder or behold.

On earth, we’ll be the last embodied souls,
Two happy partners who will touch and clasp,
To make, from two halves, two unsullied wholes,
As we did in the garden, ere the asp.

And heaven, as a witness glad, will share
The final climax of all earthly love,
For joy will ripple through the ready air,
And merge with the perfection of above.

Then bodies we no longer will attend,
For it is fast to heaven we’ll ascend.

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