Your heart, your soul, the macrocosm
For centuries, forever, you live.
And we wish to you, what is to come
A void from the cosmos tree, you give.
No solid proof, you, just light and hope
No empathy, just superstition.
A wish to have something to help us cope,
to envelop us with love, the mission.
For what do you do but provide hope,
to support that frail hook that we cast
to go on and clear another’s scope,
to flicker in the distance and last?
At your core lies a subtle darkness
Your drapery worn is diaphanous
While your light permeates the stillness,
We stare, sun-kissed, and we exist—
Knowing that behind the scenes are monsters,
Tangled in an ocean of dead suns,
where childhood wishes are slaughtered,
and new life prospers, as one is undone.
There you exist, homogenous light,
distant, unwelcoming, yet beautiful.
The Dr. Jekyll to a black hole Hyde
behind your luster is mutable.
Beyond your horizon is no return,
where light dies, broken by its own weight.
Your brethren, strange, endures to burn,
into an inevitable fate—
and these wishes fashioned from a brain
and this brain needs electricity
through synapses and functions it gains
momentum, the pen in simplicity—
pens on, ascribing about said wish.
Out from this labyrinthine wishing well,
Where mere thought and action coexist,
I covet you, your sheen, your gloss, your shell.
And far beyond my own existence,
You will hold the burden of many.
To many, you’ll inflict resentment
In falsehoods professed so ready
Confetti thoughts attained by plenty,
The gravity of your apathy
As my hand, to the keystrokes so heavy,
Fade into your velvet tapestry……
And all is black…