The Absolute Certainty Hidden in the Uncertain

Do you feel your head unspooling into the universe?

The strings are fraying at the edges, 

irreparably stained with the stardust at the ends

Of the many worlds you stretch across.

Yes, Alice thought as she drifted deeper into sleep from within that lightless and beautiful place, make it stranger now. Make it all new again.

My very favorite poem is an inarguably terrible one. I do not know its name and do not care to find out if it has a name.