Dark heart
(A very old poem)
Banished light.
Robbed of sight.
Plunging, rushing, shooting ever downwards through
this shrinking black tunnel,
tighter than the boa,
darker than the void,
lower than the core,
down, down, down, down.
How can flawless black grow darker and darker?
The useless, whining mind orders that light be returned,
but the unheeding heart descends even faster.
The fire of reason cannot now burn,
extinguished in the airless pit of the original master.
Nothing can halt the descent.
The blackness hurts!
No knowledge, no memory, no
hope.
Only terror, only confusion, only
despair.
There is nothing left.
