WHERE IT GOES?

I've missed comet Lemmon

pretty much completely,

and tomorrow the Moon

glides before the Pleiades,

and I'll probably miss it too

(clouds, if nothing else,

will see to it), and so much

more, but then I think

all the people killed

in these last few years,

who lost their cloudy nights,

who lost their full moons,

and the choice of whether

to post about the news,

write poetry or go and see

the stars, who lost dim

mornings and crimson

sunsets and everything,

everything, and would've,

in that final moment,

accepted the loss of stars

forever, and poems,

scarlet twilights,

and bright dawns

if they could have

just lived. I write

poems about the void

before the universe,

singularities beyond

the event horizon,

and the void the cosmos

will be after the last

black hole evaporates,

and that incomprehensible

absence, that utter nothing,

is where everything

they were went. Information

can't be lost, so say

the physicists, and black

holes must give up

the information they

have swallowed, but

all the information

that makes up a human being -

where it goes

when human existence evaporates

in a bomb blast?

05.11.2025