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 570 times
Written on 2012-06-05 at 03:01

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Should have been loads of comments on this one!
Brilliant poem.