Boundless black.
Stars falling into a pit so deep
that their light can’t find its way back
once it streams in.
The tremendous
the cataclysmic
voracious gravitational anomaly –
yet we call it a “hole.”
At the center of our galaxy sits
one of these, feasting for what
might be an eternity.
A collapsar, an affront.
Something that makes a physicist
lose his lunch.
Who imagined that God would
tip the scale, would add that extra
integer to open a door to His other
parallel dimensions?
A God of cascading alternatives, where
one universe is not enough
a plurality of existences.
Imagine the hosannas of living stars
and singing planets where evolution
wrought its magic in scales undreamt.
Did any of them need a Redeemer?
Did any of them need the Son?
Or, here, in the prime universe,
are we the only broken ones?