The Cereologist

In the blinding eye
Of each asterikyklone
Stares the pupil:
A bindu not as small as “just”
For it has a complex gist
Instead a new navel
(New a long while, too)

With appropriate umbilicals
Winding behind one
You see the aperture
Of every eye appears
To hold a black hole
Yet beyond these lenses
Brilliant velds forever

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