No One Really Knows A Black Hole's Heart Poem by Hugh Cobb

Singularity:
a word bespeaks uniqueness,
sounds non-threatening, almost innocuous -
just some one of a kind phenomenon
sucking in absolutely everything:

last weeks dirty laundry,
my grandmother's hoecake corn bread,
her black, coal eyes...

Gravitational pull rustles wind chimes,
dyed fish scales, bamboo
making random music

pots & pans & kitchen sink
all hanging on the brink

Planets, stars, dark matter
all falling, falling
gradually swirling into a void...

No one really knows
a black hole's heart...

Safe, ignorant on our distant rock,
poised on galaxy's edge - peripheral:
Hicksville of the Cosmos,
we remain unaware
of th'inexorable movement
into a true heart of darkness,
whole galaxy being pulled
into its maw, quark by quark...

Inevitable force pulls at
the very fabric of being.
Resistance is futile.
Matter elongates, stretched thin
like lampshades of human skin
'til it compacts
to a density impenetrable
even by light...

If metaphysical theory is correct,
that very darkness & density
is also light, only in spectra
far beyond our senses' ken.

Ain Soph Aur: Endless, limitless light...
Qabbalist knows its eternal truth.

It only looks black,
all that light,
compacted to a density beyond imagining,
creating an illusion of absence,
secret color known only to angels & Creator,
all beyond our senses or best guesses:
impenetrable luminescence.

Stretched too thin
against inevitability
bubble bursts:
Big Bang on another side.

Dimensional portals expand:
a continuous burst of creation.
Divine synapses spark with life & light
all on one side
of a particular looking glass:

'Go ask Alice, I think she'll know...'

Besides, it's all projection,
holography,
a mote in God's eye.

(Copyright 1/8/2005)