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?