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The stars are not as still as they seem, They pulse and flicker with silent screams. The night is stitched with unseen eyes, Glimpses of truths the daylight denies. A thousand aeons drift like dust, On cosmic winds of fate unjust. Planets crumble, gods decay, Yet something watches far away. Not bound by flesh, nor locked in time, It shifts through thought, it warps the mind. A whisper crawls behind the veil, A nameless hunger, vast and pale. What hand first lit the burning sun? Who carved the orbits one by one? What madness guides the cosmic tide, Where all is swallowed, none abide? The moon is cold, its face untrue, A mask that cracks to let it through. Beneath the surface, something stirs, A shadow writhing, void concurs. We call it fate, we name it space, Yet know not what awaits its gaze. A shrouded maw, a sight unseen, A beast that dreams beyond the dream. It whispers secrets, slow and deep, In riddles carved through time’s asleep. The past unmade, the future lies, All things dissolve in hollow skies. So gaze upon the stars with dread, For they are tombstones for the dead. Not gods, not hope, not cosmic grace-- But open mouths in endless space. And when the silence grips your throat, When reason drowns, when meaning chokes, You’ll know the truth the void imparts: We are but echoes of the dark. Emmanuel Komen is an African contemporary poet, philosopher, and thinker based in Nairobi, Kenya. His works explore themes of identity, nature, and the human experience. A passionate motorsport enthusiast, Emmanuel is an avid fan of the safari rally and proudly supports Team Toyota GR.
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