More Twisted Spacetimes And Chaotic Thoughts

Get out of bed,
And write a poem you old fool;

Caught in another black hole,
Of deeply-twisted miseries,

How to forgive the damages from stress,
Before beginning to move forwards?

How to forgive the stress lines in my primodial spacetime,
The curvatures, the voids,
The whirlpools of dark energies;

How to forgive the trail of destruction,
It’s wrought through my interstellar cloud,
The seeds of new stars of the future,
Swallowed hole and ripped to pieces;

The age lines show in my spiral arms,
And the bloated red giants of wisened years,

Before I can meditate on a universe of hope,
I must first stop focusing on this background radiation;

For I have been stressed,
By primordial black holes,
I have been stressed,
By wandering black holes,
And I have been stressed,
By supermassive black holes,

Yet, I am a survivor,
Like all of the others,

Who can overcome this burden,
To be given new purpose.

I am clearly suffering,
Without a cause,
My self-esteem is low—
All this can be rebuilt.

What are you withering on about now,
Grandad?

🌪