At the centre of my universe, there burned a Shining Star. A Star brighter than any that has ever burned before.
I watched It burning bright, a young, shining thing. Yellow, with hints of pink. Swirling, churning, burning.
Then the Star is gone. Not snuffed out, just gone. I'm the one who put out Its light.
Am I black hole?
Then It returned. It burns red, Its youth is lost, so much time has passed, so much pain experienced.
This time It's part of a shining system, but all the stars are red. All have been tested with time, all are different.
I am a black hole.
A new star is born, burning hot with anger. It is not a blue star, it is full of old thoughts, ancient memories.
It should be a black hole.
I thought it my job to manage these stars, to put them in a proper constellation.
So I took some out, and put them in a different galaxy, far, far away, where my darkness cannot reach, where my gravity cannot pull. I took that Red Star, which burned Its brightest this day, and I hid It from view with stars It belonged with, with that star that should be a black hole.
I returned others to their places, I left them behind, far, far away, where my darkness cannot reach, where my gravity cannot pull.
There was one star, the most important star, and it was so bright that it skipped being black and went straight to being a white hole. It emitted pure radiance, the energy of joy. I ruined this star without even trying.
I absorbed everything that it had and it returned to the way it was before, burning too plainly blue.
I am a black hole.
If I am a black hole, is it really my right to shift all the stars? To warp light, to warp time? Wether it is my right or not, I continue to devour, because truly, I am a black hole. I am indeed Victorious.
I watched It burning bright, a young, shining thing. Yellow, with hints of pink. Swirling, churning, burning.
Then the Star is gone. Not snuffed out, just gone. I'm the one who put out Its light.
Am I black hole?
Then It returned. It burns red, Its youth is lost, so much time has passed, so much pain experienced.
This time It's part of a shining system, but all the stars are red. All have been tested with time, all are different.
I am a black hole.
A new star is born, burning hot with anger. It is not a blue star, it is full of old thoughts, ancient memories.
It should be a black hole.
I thought it my job to manage these stars, to put them in a proper constellation.
So I took some out, and put them in a different galaxy, far, far away, where my darkness cannot reach, where my gravity cannot pull. I took that Red Star, which burned Its brightest this day, and I hid It from view with stars It belonged with, with that star that should be a black hole.
I returned others to their places, I left them behind, far, far away, where my darkness cannot reach, where my gravity cannot pull.
There was one star, the most important star, and it was so bright that it skipped being black and went straight to being a white hole. It emitted pure radiance, the energy of joy. I ruined this star without even trying.
I absorbed everything that it had and it returned to the way it was before, burning too plainly blue.
I am a black hole.
If I am a black hole, is it really my right to shift all the stars? To warp light, to warp time? Wether it is my right or not, I continue to devour, because truly, I am a black hole. I am indeed Victorious.