The black Hole and Moss - poem
I was a moss, dwelled on a bark of an old oak.
Which stood against the despicable weather of four seasons
year around in countryside
Living in isolation on a remote corner of a corner's garden.
Unmoved, untouched, unspoiled except grazed by
Slippery snails at night.
I liked the morning dew which I collected at dawn.
Before it disappeared when sunbeams across me shone.
And I was in love with a black hole. Would you believe it?
They called me the crazy moss, the ferns my friends
Boy, they laughed at my timid fragile voice
And gay smile that I tried to hide.
Once in a while when the Sky cleared of clouds.
I would stare into the hollow darkness of the night.
I would see the black hole in the corner of the universe.
Oh. so pretty it was her smile.
Her dark countenance allured me with vigor.
Her sweet voice which did not escape her own gravity
ruminated in my mind.
As I wished to drift with earth
Fall into her at once and for all
Like a moth, falling into a candlelight.
Call it madness, call it love
It's better than being a moss on a tree unloved.
Or falling for the stars, I despise their blue light.
I never will speak about it in public
My outlawed love of life
Moss I would be Moss I would die.
But a moss I was in love with
a black hole though it's futile.
--end of poem --
Comments