Black Holes
By ecologist
Myst hangs surreal --- drifting across the tide into your eyes breath from heaven holding life in fragile hands broken fingers wandering through glittering embers --- of night caught on the precipice of time tick-tock, tick-tock black holes without form --- holes without eyes to watch light be devoured in silence night -- without day I am a black hole Written January 8th, 2002 © on Jan 08 2002 02:09 AM PST 0 • 10
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"Myst hangs..."