by Wade German
How perfect and symmetrical the sphere
Our ageless, vast galactic center holds:
That god-like, ebon countenance so cold,
Devouring all substance it draws near.
From that black maw where orbs are thrown accursed,
Astronomers on other, outer worlds
Detect dim voices that once voidward hurled,
Translated into cosmic X-ray bursts.
Long since we crossed the Schwarzschild radius;
As prophets howl the darkness cleanses us
Before the altar of dark deity –
That our lost tribes are now returning home
To undimensioned realms where phantoms roam.
Wade German’s poems have appeared in dozens of magazines such as Dreams and Nightmares, Mythic Delirium, and Space and Time. His poems have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Rhysling Award, and have received honorable mentions in Ellen Datlow’s Best Horror of the Year anthologies. He works as a broadcast journalist in Prague, Czech Republic.