Prose or Poetry or both? I am playing around with this short fiction piece that discusses celestial bodies which are ultimately consumed by darkness and timelessness: possibly the destiny for all of us.
Sun and Moon
Alina Happy Hansen
The Sun battered down on the city below. The inhabitants wake and roll over, groaning or jumping up to live another day. Looking down below, the heart of the moon, forever lost to his lover runs across the sky. Each day as it progresses, the season’s changes, the year’s pass, the inhabitants are born, live, die, born, live die; generation after generation. The Sun does not care about the inhabitants of that blue little world that is quickly turning grey and sickly, quickly looking more and more like it did when it was born. The sun looks on trying to catch the moon who is left spinning around the little black globe, dead and dried up. Spinning away into a void, an abyss until the sun begins to dim and invert itself becoming a black hole finally sucking the sun into its darkness.
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