Things as we think of things
Are a means to perceive a deeper clarity
Of things as they are truly
From the means to the ends
We pay honors duly
To the splendor and beauty
Of the universe wholly
Through faith in science or religion
Or that we all evolved like pigeons
On this smidgen
Of a planet in the midst of 125,000,000 galaxies
That spiral at speeds
Far surpassing
Any grand prix
Around what’s believed
To be black holes
And I am relieved
To say I’m far enough away
That black hole trolls
Would have to traverse a large amount of space
To meet me face to face
But it’s by the grace of time
Such imaginary creatures could not survive
Long enough for the trip
To mysteriously slip
Into the atmosphere of earth
Upon which (according to my limitations
Of imagination,
But quite possibly according to universal limitations)
The trolls suffer from breathing our air
Because they are
(According to the aforementioned
Parenthetical statement)
Not accustomed to our
Mixed, but generally fixed
Quantities of Nitrogen and Oxygen, etc.
And thus we are safe and better off
From the imaginary space trolls
...For now
About the Creator
Conjury
Poetry, reveries, and streams of consciousness. Musings, revelries, and free dreams of consonance. Metaphysics, philosophy, and magick cognizance. Writing things that make me high and do a dance.
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