Faux:
Goodnight,
Void.
When existing ‘twixt worlds,
We exist nowhere.
Between,
Around,
But not occupying space,
Like rest of Reality –
Universal Spacetime Rent Asunder.
Perhaps twisted into shapes.
Coleridge;
Or Milton –
What might you think:
“Of Logger Poets Writing More,
Than Love,
Or Tragedy.”
