Now, Let's dance a poem.
swirling ball of gas
erupting, raging, compounding
the potential climax that drives this flame
to reach, to touch, to fill all space
to explode (warmth, light and dust); to extend—
or to crumble and shrink and accept its fate,
consumed in dark void; the blackest waste.
not swirling (but gaseous all the same),
rising and falling in waves
reaching for that image of myself I see
to shine my warm light in the cold dark
and scatter my dust to mingle with life.
My two fates: to expand or to shrink—
and no choice at all is a black hole, I think.
Well, there it is. Now, to end us off, we shall once again tread lightly where no other poems go: the haiku.
sings its morning tune.
Smart worm sleeps in.