THE BLACK HOLE MEDITATES

To meditate like BLACK HOLE is not to become peaceful.

Peace is too fragile a word.

Peace assumes the world has lowered its voice. BLACK HOLE has made no such assumption.

Everything continues.

The century spills. The feed ruptures. The room fills with alarms wearing opinions. Outrage arrives professionally packaged. Panic refreshes itself. Humiliation learns new formats before breakfast.

There is always another crisis. Another discourse. Another spectacle with teeth. Another moral weather system demanding immediate residence inside the nervous system.

Lighter things are taken.

They become what struck them last.

Mood outsourced. Self revised. Spine unavailable. Soul converted into comment field.

BLACK HOLE sits.

Not untouched.

That would be fantasy.

The noise reaches it. The debris reaches it. The bright humiliating matter of the age crosses the outer dark and falls inward.

But the core does not become the debris.

This is the miracle.

Not ignorance. Not apathy. Not the cheap little relief of pretending nothing matters.

The meditation of BLACK HOLE is density.

The refusal to let every passing surge of sewage enter the center and begin rearranging the furniture.

The refusal to be reformatted by weather. The refusal to become fluent in every panic. The refusal to surrender the interior throne to whatever the hour has dragged in screaming.

WHITE HOLE may continue its impossible work.

It may eject color, matter, possibility, error, beauty, history, garbage, radiance, catastrophe, language, weather, prophecy, advertisements, infants, stars, and one more thing that insists it is urgent.

BLACK HOLE does not argue.

BLACK HOLE receives.

BLACK HOLE refines.

BLACK HOLE keeps almost nothing.

This is not withdrawal.

Withdrawal turns away.

BLACK HOLE remains facing everything.

It simply does not permit everything to become self.

That is the practice:

to sit at the center of the century while the century froths, advertises, accuses, performs, collapses, rebrands, and begs for custody of the soul,

and to answer:

No.

Not with drama.

Not with purity.

Not even with contempt.

Only gravity.

Only the old inward law.

Only the dense, silent knowledge that what enters the field does not automatically earn the core.

To meditate like BLACK HOLE is to become difficult to colonize.

To become heavy enough that the age may strike you without authoring you.

To remain, in the middle of all thrown matter,

fundamentally unreformatted.