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In the Black

By: Gwennan Moore

Age 15

A little bit
Of every
Thing and
Endless, endless nothings

I know this
And I know
That
But this final sum
Of my limitless knowings
Adds up to the value
Of not a valuable thing

If you watch and
Watch;
Seeing so lucidly
And knowing
Always the truth
Of those sights

Then truly at
Some time 

Your findings, your sights
Should begin to
Build up
But mine conclude
In only void

Empty, empty
Unspiraling, back-twisting
Ever not-unfurling
Black
That moves with stillness

And screams with silence
Is forever stifling me

Ice, ice, ice
So cold it burns
Will be never the end
Of me

For those frozen splinters
That pierce through my bones
Undo the undoing in me

And that wind

So dry, of arctic climate
That strips the warmth
From the world’s very
Bones
Is the breath of air
That unties my soul
Forever unleashing
And setting me free

For nothing can’t undo
For blackness can’t blind

For cold cannot chill
And death cannot find
A creature of
And beyond
Their sepulchral powers:

A kindred spirit
Of darkest dreams
And hauntings
Strewn with the glimmer
Of diamond-cold starry life

Beyond their boundless reach
Are beings of likeness
And so
They cannot
Touch me

 

 
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