Black holes, singularities, all our own,
Drifting and flailing in the cosmic wind,
Stars’ light cannot glimpse the inner dark
Past event horizons, past the named known.
Planets and satellites can be pinned
To a chart, but black holes avoid the mark
Of astronomers’ telescopes and pens.
What within lies, who outside cares to search
For answers to that recondite question?
Nothing must lie outside the human lens
Yet infinity defies the research
Of the astronomical profession.
I am planning on changing the last two lines. But I haven’t chosen to what just yet.