holes of a dark nature juxtaposed
with those referred to as white,
sucking in or thrashing out,
bending and reshaping its fabric
not really expanding its time...
cruel thoughts cling to the notion
we are but simple objects in space
without destiny or purpose, just
hurled about with chaotic randomness,
presupposed to remain in place
until new places are determined,
bathed in cosmic space dust
giving us consciousness sentience
that wraps itself around knowledge
like the particles accepted or rejected
when dark holes pass to white ones
new universes are created, not born.
September 9, 2025
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