The ocean of emptiness is what some call space,
It’s empty alright, with a cold embrace.
The angler fish there have stars as lures,
Waiting until they’ve done their tours.
When they are ready they close their jaws,
After its wait, its longish pause,
It will digest one solar system whole,
Planets and asteroids, like a black hole.
If this is the mere angler fish of the sea,
The sharks of Milky Way will quiver your knee.