Born into an abscess, an emptiness, the negative space
Bleeding ink, scream shrieks, reaching for an embrace
The event horizon is yet to be found, but still replaced
Why go forward into oblivion, why retreat not chase
My flight course is stable, into a wrath of being chaste
Even as Icarus I am, I shall never fly this day
But, truly, I surely will fall again
Image by commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Kaldari
