Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Solar System Poems 17: The Keyhole Is Open

Born of violence, 
bigger than the pyramids.
It would not swallow the sun
but if allowed would part the seas
for a moment
before killing the first born 
and later born
as a set.

The heavens align. 
The door is closed 
but the keyhole is open.
It lost at roulette
but it holds a lottery ticket.

If it slithers through
we must take to the 
tenth region of the night,
call upon our wizards
and mimic the sun.

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