How might I mourn the end of this?
Funerals are required and tears and pain
and broken stars, as stories told,
are procedures of written time.
But dare I crack a smile, at this blackened pyre
it might break the hollow universe
that men before me have created.
But smile I did, and with it no end became
just light between two distant stars
who wrote in waves of gravity arms
who once were born in crucible hands.
And though this space expands in infinite strand
with darkness at the fringe
You sit at the center of a galaxy of ours
in a heart not willing to grieve
what will always be untouched
by the hands of time

by our guest writer bwh

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