There is no spoon...
These are two rewrites of that original "Crop Cirlces in Space" poem I wrote a while ago. I'm rather shakey right now on the whole concept, but perhaps it can be salvaged...
Commotion kissed sphere unseen by eyes
Never ending compiler, hear its voice draw
Stars galaxies universes in unending embraces;
Nothingness, but with quantity comprise,
Encompassed with gravity’s relentless claw
Discombobulated sequences rise.
Then meted out in perfect sequenced circle-skies
Lit with infinity’s dazzle bedecked awe
Raging, brining about time’s demise.
is a gaping maw, an open space,
free to be plummeted by all who heed its call.
drowned by inescapable plunging,
“Time will come to an end for an astronaut who falls into a black hole…”
the tongues that lick the event horizon’s circular shape cause chaos.
sucked deep into the darkness, what goes in creates
swelling the belly with rays of light
that fall out in vacuum fluctuations
meted out in perfect circles,
rending time’s boundaries,
for “no natural notion of infinity is compatible with the laws of arithmetic.”