When Black Holes Collide

It is the best of times; it is the worst of times.

It is an age in which great wisdom and love is unfolding in the hearts of many.

It is an age of unimaginable foolishness, in which psychopathic clowns blow up their own pipelines, threatening nuclear Armageddon.

It is an epoch of belief, but a belief in what, when all the theology has been twisted into a war of nerves,

When all the science has been bought and paid for by intellectual dwarves,

When the most vaccuous weep with passion over trinkets so bijou.

No. It is the best of times because it’s the time when I found You.

It’s the time when You came to teach me the coding of Your divine purpose,

And so now as I sit here in Your three-ringed circus,

Watching the acrobats jumping from incredible heights,

And the black-robed and masked tightrope walkers,

Threatening each other with blackmail and bribes,

As they tread the red carpets of the corridors of power, soaked in blood,

And quite willing to bring it down on all of us, in a Great Flood,

[Haven’t we been here before? Ed.]

The orchestra is striking up with “We’ll Meet Again!”

And I can only wonder …at a love so great that it brought me here,

To push me to the edge, and beyond,

So that I could fall in love, once more, with Your Majesty and Glory,

Written in every cell and atom of this divine demimonde.

With apologies to Charles Dickens.

© Annie Dieu-Le-Veut, on the eve of the apocalypse, 2022.