The Black Hole

It was only a tiny little spot,

neatly cleared up, no mess at all

totally empty, staring at me...
not for long, I was smug and easy

took to feeding it slowly but surely,

as it grew greedily,
to enormous stature;

no hope of satiation, whatsoever;

I went on relentlessly

pooled in every resource I owned and borrowed;

what was just a poor little void

is now a panoptic hungry black hole;

Dreading me from deep within,

Waiting for absolute usurpation;

Nothing seems the Matter to it

And not even a faint Light returns!

Perhaps...!

With the rustle of each wind,
I look up at the bell,
perhaps, it will toll on its own
but no,
it just hangs there, tongue-tied
waiting for me to tug at the rope, perhaps?
The winds whistle away,
mocking at both of us...perhaps!