Dark matter lives
in the presence of
the light
Oceans of time
curl and unfurl
in theory
alone
Meanwhile a wind
howls on the plains
flickering
A spark from
a star falls
imploring
a pulse
Worlds bloom and wilt
while a weary star
grows dim
and your life
collapses into
a singular
point
obelisks sharply rise
punctuate the landscape
like monuments to
moments of impact
and between those
stretch vast expanses
some bone dry
some swirling, unfolding
parabolic mists
and quiet prayer
as the snail needs
the spiral of the shell
so too the valley
needs both time
and a river
not stopping
until the world
is black marble
