The Gloaming

(Softly Open Our Mouths in the Cold)

Here, at the end of all things,
The way is shut.
Once the ground beneath you falls away,
In the flailing of a free-fall,
Grow wings. Defy Newton’s noggin
And spurn the way light
Can’t even leave a black hole,

A collapsed star’s density unfathomable
Folding into its own abyss.
You have to learn
To be more than Light.