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.