Source of all cause.

A breach in original symmetry

authentic and unretainable

like the softest star

beating in the pulse of its end.

Swirling in a panic, the particles

slow to a nub, mute.

 

The absent whisper of a guilty galaxy

turning inward, a reversal

of energy released relentlessly

it peaks, compact, complete.

 

A shift, shimmer, a slight

but definite black pinpoint centre

of the ultimate cannibal.

 

So sure and brutal

in a strange and beautiful way.

 

Vanish is the magic of the zombie star.

 

It exists in the will of the unfamilliar

spinning and ripping the skin

of light inside out.

 

The entrails of things we do not understand.

Scraps of the system recycled

the life and death of mystery,

the sorrow of unanswered questions.