Dark Matters
Onyx night drinks up the stars,swallows the moon alive,
a constrictor engulfs
my eyes as prey.
Ghost roars its displeasure,
lest mortals dare to stare,
past the line of trees,
that burns to galactic core.
My sight averts the horizon,
forcing this universe
to make quantum choices,
who sees what and when.
Poetry by Brian Oarr
Read 591 times
Written on 2012-06-05 at 03:01
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