Black

A poem by the winner of the Chug 'n Write: Boris Simonse

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Black

The void of abundance

Plenty with lack

Rich with empty

Absent with redundance

It lies in the air

A clamor of silence

It listens to a hush

It speaks as if voiceless

Shouts yet does so

Noiseless

Breathes in with a sigh

Smiles with a frown

While its mouth is shut

To scream it out

It wanders standing still

It swifts while unmoved

Joyful is its pace

That leaves it but so shrill

A king denied his crown

He rules by no act

He cries to dry his eyes

His damaged heart intact

It has a point to be wrong

Its flaws make it perfect

It’s unrightfully worth it

The night sky is either or

It is due to this and in order for

Not only and additional

Both of any and each of many

It is us who contradict him

With wonderings that inflict him

While undamaged he remains

We seek such answers back

But the night is both and none

No bias to be done

Save just but one

That night sky up there

It’s black