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I am standing in such a space
that like an event horizon
where there everything is moving towards the dark
and usually the opposite is the light

The two ways are very distinct
the light
and the dark
but I am wondering for light
And I see,
any existence of objects that stand on the space,
and even time moving towards the dark

The attraction of dark is too high
its gravity beyond,
attracting the young and the old
it bends all the waves and moving towards the black hole
passing as clouds through the event horizon
where there I have stood
there is a boundary
between the heaven and hell

On the boundary,
the hell I see very near
and the heaven, I saw before
cause still I have some feelings
and all my feelings are accumulating in the bean
but the feelings have a little gravity
either good or evil
neither soft nor compact
all drops from the heaven's wall

It has grown more with time
compact more and more
either in core of heart or in pore of spaces
neither in sticky sand nor in the serene soul
all are moving toward the dark

And finally,
I see a big crunch in the dark
but still some particles of light are floating over the dark
and some are still struggling on the horizon
others are waiting on the event horizon to move toward the dark hell
and I am standing on the wall of the event horizon
neither my mind wants to move in the hell
nor I can moving back to the heaven

~
@Musfiq us shaleheen
the event horizon is an imagery place between heaven and hell and the time that moving towards the hell even the feelings of time and I am wondering for light.
Steven Bowen Jun 2014
Gathered in a cluster of mixed emotions,
The distribution takes place.
Expecting many rejections and commotions,
But there are none we have to face.

Duvets and quilts offer solid protection,
Taken from advice on a Web.
The spider bites and leaves infection,
Curiosity leads us to the next step.

Smiles are performed in front of nervous twitches,
Either the sky is the limit or we sink down in ditches.

Fingers communicate with the tongue,
Placing a black square on a chessboard.
No one can tell, it’s invisible fun,
Absorbing an awful chemical horde.

A metallic sting runs fluently through the gums,
Eating a sour grape with a polished fork.
Dreams of orange, pineapple and plum,
A sweet taste would help me talk.

We stay static, settled and silent,
Before our minds become visceral and vibrant.
Sam WG May 2014
Afflicted by the sickness of spirit
Falling desperately in love
This one is for the memories
To feed the pondering that flows above

In and out of passages
Shadows dark as night
Forever they are resting
Beside straight edged flows of light

And as solumn as it sounds
What is here foretold
May well turn out to be right
As the story unfolds

Solitude.. rain storm.. then silence
Brewing up a thought of lust
Convinced by the illest form of wisdom
Now, quite surely, in love

— The End —