Small curtains between
windows and eyes,
the only thing that separates
you and me.
You and me,
we’re a pair of stars
light-years distant
circling each other,
feeding off of each other,
catching planets and asteroids
in our wake.
I watch your light
from behind patterned cloth,
and
through panes of glass
meant to keep the cold out
while letting your image through.
I wonder how cold you are
shining there outside my home.
I wonder if
this orbit will decay,
if we will someday collide
and meld
and become too massive
and explode to shed off
unwanted weight
and collapse to form
some
naked singularity,
hot and exposed
and pulling into us everything
that passes by.
They would call us black and nothing,
but I would know better.
I would see our light
shine through
far beyond the bounds
of our
event horizon.
And the universe would watch
until they’re blinded
by the glory
of
what nothing can truly be.
The posting of this poem inspired, in no small way, by the recent postings of another everythingian