The Cracks Appear

The void is nothing, so nothing to fear, Try not be afraid when buried in here, A complete empty desolate place, Without walls, windows, ceiling, or base. Darkness reflects back from obsidian, Just an endless vortex continuum, Absolute and utter by self definition, Yet indefinite by its own composition. Oh voids are stark if not very clear, Oblivious, blind, possessing no cheer, Always try and look beyond the black, Thousand yard stare, uncovers cracks. Through crevices, now I see the escape, Voids disappear, if you establish shape, Never throw your hand, under menace, for our own demons, love to condemn us. By David Kavanagh