Elliptical Orbit
I wonder what it means when one returns to a place past, time and time again. Orbiting like a satellite, an echo failing to fade. Always about the same void, absent of resolution, hurling through thorough darkness where light once shown so brightly.
By simpler convention, one would argue that orbiting an absence is impossible, and if possible, it would be a clear demonstration of futility. Yet crafty arithmetic tells us that some apparent absences are substantial in gravity. Nothing escapes them. Such absence, present though emitting nothing, is the signature of the mysterious blackhole.
If anything in the universe is to be called an abyss, it is the blackhole. This phenomenon where nothing, not even light can escape. The non-place blacker than the blackest night. An absence so profound and so deep, it bends time and space itself.
Could the inner universe know such a phenomenon? Where a brilliance of experience and concentration of consciousness acquires such weight, then a collapse where the gravity of the matter sinks inward into a concavity of longing and a hijacked will returns periodically on an elliptical orbit.
In the stillness of the night, I weigh the unrelenting gravity of a matter that has left a warp in the fabric of everything I have ever known.
- L'inconnu