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Where Nine Worlds Blend ©

Gordon Fjaelberg
Bridgend, Wales
1969

On the outer edge of Time
In endless Space,
There is an empty place;
This far off waste-land is devoid
Of any light;
No flashing colours bright.

No moon ever shines by night
Nor sun by day;
Life has long lost its way.
Where, then, is this awesome place?
We can but guess;
Who can gauge emptiness?

Lonely darkness
Shouts its scorn
Where reasons end.
Only madness
Marks the spot
Where nine worlds blend.

Yet I fervently believe
This deep Abyss
Is within all of us.
It's the Chasm of Despair
Where we have jailed
The thoughts with which we failed.

Formless shadows
Skulk from end
To either end.
Plaintive echoes
Mark the spot
Where nine worlds blend.

By whatever name we give
To let us know;
It's we that make it grow.
Thus it scars our path
Through life
In different ways,
Until the end of days.

Don't you then believe,
Like me,
That we should end
The distant
Dismal
Dark Abyss,
Where nine worlds blend?



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