I look up to a night sky…

It got glowing things and all…and an enormous convalescence. 

Too large a thing lacks motility… Too proud of it’s stagnant wisdom. 

My feudal sky won’t give in to man’s appreciations only for it’s smoky ornaments. 

Astronaut’s hallucination may be…may be too much of supernova imparted enlightenment…

Cocaine high…the last puff of a home coming ciggerate…

As strange as it can be…every living souls, perhaps deads too fly through a great deal of a night panorama…

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