All things are dark,

the distant stars shine

behind the veil of the murk of clouds.

Leading to late desire for

wisdom and knowledge

to spy out the eyries of the skies.

But the gleams of deepest night

Are made from corpse light

where the moon is seen out on orbit

And one knows the deafness of

the stars and the moon in

the untouched

when the

light and silence combine

mocking the reasoning, reaching, extending

mind.

Fragments of self stitched in hollows of time reflect in diminishing patterns

Bringing inner tears

As refracted light in snowfall

A passing reflection of myself

Retreat into the abyss of falsehood

Of self in no conviction

Only somatic addiction

Kiss the plasma shadows

Kiss your death.