Containing nothing that’s ambivalent,
more than dark,
which would only be dreary,
death’s non-spiritual equivalent
crushes our intellect to theory.
Passage through is most certainly
and thus it incites our speculation.
What would occur,
if we wandered astray
into this singular aberration?
to where you’ve placed your clocks.
From outside, we’d seem to fall forever.
it’s puzzling paradox.
We only know
that we’d leave it never.
A downward orbit is how it begins,
and nothing’s jolly when gravity wins.