I can see now the injury..
The tear which ripped through a soul..
The irresistable gravitational force it has..
An internal super nova, made blackhole..

See the bandit who robs children?
Of their fantasy world of "safe"..
Their image of a benevolent universe..
Hallowed by a hole deep in inner space..

Time folds there as it captures..
Pain too emense to fit in inside..
Frozen solid for later feeling..
Moments from which we all hide..

Layers and piles of "protection"..
From hurts too bitter to taste..
Too cutting and raw in the knowing..
Too "gone" for time to waste..

Some more "protected" than others..
With their egos and illusion of control..
These are the ones most troubled..
Their false lives have swallowed them whole..

Now see the ones who show their pain?
Their layers suspended in time?
Perhaps some pulled to look inward..
Through the love of music, art, or rhym..

And others finally forced by fate's will..
To surrender their powerless pieces..
Emptied of excess, their souls cry out..
"I am Startdust; I am that which never ceases"..