"Oh my, I don't feel
that I can go on much longer.
These old man's heels
have in the past been stronger. "

And then,
down a black Hole
to seek the last truth;
defeating blunders of mind,
but too long in the tooth.

And then,
back out, returning to the open.
Auburn leaves beneath lie still.
Wind stirs, orange spirals woven.
"It's a universal fractal spill."

And then,
"Recursive, it's recursive;
my whole existence has thrived.
One end is subversive,
the other end is contrived."*

And then,
the black Hole opens wide,
*******, grabbing, attracting--
uncontrived, unaware of requite.
One old soul the Hole is extracting.

And then,
...