Recycling
I am your pit,
the black hole of your discontent –
Just pour it in,
your frustrations and your sorrows,
your despair and bitterness –
I can take it all,
I will recycle all your tragedies
into life immortal
and mysteries without end,
the black holes of the universe
connoting rebirths without end.
Thus all your deaths
will be converted into triumphs,
and love will stand alone
serenely outshining
any dark shadow,
the black hole
having turned itself inside out
into all pervading light.
Poetry by Laila Roth
Read 595 times
Written on 2009-01-23 at 20:07
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