Under the moonlit sky,
Not a single star.
Dancing by my side,
Yet uncertain and so far.
A lonely satellite,
Floats into oblivion.
Begging, "don't make the next strike
At the break of dawn."
Broken puppets below the surface of
A beautiful crimson icy lake.
Unwinding effortlessly into a maze
More luminous shiny threads we graze.
Take the magic stardust stairway,
Shrouded with clouds and mist.
For two galaxies to collide,
Would be the greatest gift.
Blackholes, indefinitely wide,
Slowly eating at the universe.
The words pouring speedily,
Ensuring they reach first.
A hopeful star appears,
In the midst of twilight nether.
But if it barely shines at all,
Would it even matter?
