Is the abyss in the middle of us all
really a black hole
that, stretching ourselves to the limits,
draws others into itself
with hopes of new life emerging
to sprinkle the edge of time?
What if that yin-yang void
is nothing but hot air rising
over surface tensions
to drain tornadoes at the core
of our longing rage?
Can hope also obliterate?
Your water to my air
revolving around the desolation
of past’s unfulfilled longing
sets off the potential destruction
of all in its path with hope
of draining this hole’s power.
Are all relationships thus
a dance of feared annihilation
and redemptive desire?
If so, how does the revolution
at crossroads of conflict
become perpetual motion
toward love’s New-Day way
instead of inescapable fate’s
vicious cycling of ancient
dark matter leaving larger
swaths of devastation
that fuel nothing but despair?
Maybe we could rise to transcend
this common holistic longing of emptiness,
empathize with the other’s pain,
and thus sidestep the maelstrom of our own,
with an expectation of mutual care
that spins round to us, in turn.