Black Hole Becoming – Slowly & With Trust in the Mathematics
A black hole is a fascinating phenomena — a destructive event horizon in which matter is pulled inward, to a density beyond imagining. A phenomena about which we can theorize. Yet, we can never test our theories, or can’t survive such tests. I began the year with a sci-fi type of poem, Wormhole, and as we come toward the end of the year, it seems only fitting to take another glance at extreme outer space.
There’s a theory that our universe was spawned within a black hole within another universe, and that all black holes contain additional universes. That’s the sort of circular-ish, head-spinning, Alice-in-Wonderland type of thought that black holes trigger.
If the Big Bang was a singularity, and black holes are singularities, maybe the Big Bang was just a black hole? Ha ha ha. Just a black hole. Only in higher math does turning something into a black hole actually simplify the math.
I’m not talking about the advanced math group that you & I weren’t put into in 4th grade. I mean the much higher math. The kind that, in engineering school, after Differential Equations for Chemical Engineers II, we all just surrendered because this math was something not meant for mere humans like us.
Anyway, the upshot of the math is that a black hole sucks in matter and spits it out the other side (of what, one asks, but doesn’t receive an answer) in a new universe. This makes what we know of as–wait for it–a wormhole.
Meanwhile, here we are, living in some other universe’s black hole. I think.
By now, I am sure you wonder if I have lost my mind. If I was being graded on the math involved in this theory, you’d be right.
So let’s back up.
A black hole is what happens when a giant star burns itself out and collapses. It collapses in on itself, and as a result, sucks in all the matter around it. And pulls in any more matter that comes near. In fact, it has so much gravitational pull that nothing can escape. Not even light. Hence the reason we call it a black hole.
Black holes–large black holes–have been found at the center of every galaxy, including our own Milky Way.
Why does each black hole not become infinitely dense and infinitely small? After all, that is what Einstein’s theories would result in. But we know Einstein’s theories break down in the face of extremes–speed, gravitational pull, volume, mass.
You can just believe me: the tiny, almost-but-not-quite-infinitely-small-and-infinitely-dense nature of a black hole results in a spin which allows black holes to become one-way-rides to somewhere else in another universe. Hence wormhole. Or you can read more about all that here.
Of course, you don’t come through the wormhole intact. At least, not in our current mathematical representation of what happens. You enter the wormhole / black hole and the bits of atomic debris and litter, of which you were composed, comes out the other side.
What in the world (Universe? Universes?) does that have to do with poetry, you ask.
Well, like the mathematics involved with black holes, poetry also approves of extreme conditions. Sometimes, poetry / poets like to take a situation and run it to its extreme / furthest conclusion.
And the extreme conclusion of Big Bang = Black Hole = Wormhole, is that we are riding our way to becoming part of a black hole ourselves, as we transit space on this speck we call Earth around Sol, the sun, which is going to suck us in some day. After all the bigger black holes are done sucking it in, of course. Below image via NASA.
Black Hole Becoming
Today, careening, as we all are
all the time down tarry highways
singing speed, off key.
Broken, like the fly who cannot buzz
so sniffs with its feet
at the edge of the windscreen.
We’ve feet, we move about,
mouths open to the night, to hopeful stars,
faithless to hope, but going about it anyway.
Our eyes: less bright than suns at core,
but all the time going dwarf star,
drifting on the inexorable road to black hole,
all while pulling in and spilling out
flotsam that won’t be seen for ages.
If you enjoyed Black Hole Becoming
You’ll find more of my poems on this blog or in the collection Stars Crawl Out From Their Caves, which is available in both ebook and print.
I mentioned that I opened the year with a sci-fi poem, Wormhole, which is, of course, about how I imagine it would be to transit a wormhole.
You can also start reading what NASA has to say about black holes and their associated phenomena here. Want to see what a black hole might look like? Again, NASA has your back.
Yes, yes, I know that good ol’ Sol, our friendly sun, isn’t big enough to make a black hole when it collapses on itself. Yet, it could be sucked into another one…and us with it, if we are still alive.
Missed a poem of the week? Links to prior weeks are on this page.
Want the kids’ version of this explanation? (Don’t we all want the simple version to most things?) Kids Astronomy does a great job of explaining black holes here.
Comments & opinions welcome–have a great week!