Black Hole Poem by Eila Mahima Jaipaul

All day the hoary meteor,
black Boreas, furious with despair,
light the lions of burning gas,
destroyers of outlandish plans.

It started at dawn, in a crust of stars,
the brightest one going and coming
in a curve of nature,
in the warp of a sphere
falling stars always seem to wish to imitate,
when they wear the habit of insatiable desire.

Beneath the great heart-blinding ball
blackness bound, to plow all golden falling Cassiopeia
on end with bright Perseus beneath her.

Falling to death, the absolute,
the nothing that has yet to form itself
out of the veering spiral
changes the lurid brunt of air
looking as if off in the sky a nodule of ink
had opened, tainting the surroundings
a green so dark... the black it slithered into
grew a minute after-sheen.

In this somber vortex...
while elements were being torn
then recomposed,
the truth of your being
welled up in a whisper,
till one speck held itself intact momentarily
through the blare of stuff collapsing, bombarding, reforming
and I saw there
the glowing stone...
the warm patch in the icy floor...
telling me that what I wanted was near
and that it was all right to live.