Orbital Decay
By Mark Cantrell
We orbit,
Far away, but with each turn
We spiral ever closer
To the terminal point of doom.
Behold it, in space-time
Like the Reaper, cowled
By the shattered remains
Of matter and thought,
Tumbling slow into the dark space
Within.
Closer now, we spin,
Each of us in turn
Tumbling towards that Dark Abyss
At the end of our life's time:
The Event Horizon
Where Mind and Soul
Is torn asunder,
Ripped from fleshly remains,
By the gravitational force
Of Death's Black Hole.
There, wi...