Oh,but a Grain by Nick Holt

Galactic invertebrates carve out small black holes.

The dark matter settles; a passage is far from sight.

 

Colours fracture and expose their inner workings;

a cluster materialises and then vanishes from sight.

 

The children press their eyes into small glass circles;

the second sibling of her son comes into sight.

 

Shiny spheres spin rapidly on small wooden stands;

the country towns and blue lakes are blurred from sight.

 

The ethereal gypsies shuffle cards in their tents;

they tell us of the future, it’s a beautiful sight.

 

What can we do to convince Him we’re special?

Will he ever come down and visit this site?

 

The man with the knowledge is unable to walk;

his mind is so precious, and so often we cite.

 

My luminous mother appears but once a day.

She’s bold, but imperfect, and her dark side is out of sight.

 

By Nick Holt

Bachelor of Arts, Majoring in Philosophy and Writing

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