We are the lost planet,
writing songs and sonnets.
Hoping the bounce from asteroid to comet.
Plunge down to the core,
Molten truths forever lost
to history.
Black holes, swallowing everything to ever exist,
yet this little solar system
continues to persist.
Four hundred billion
brightly burning balls
float here and there.
The truest deities of circumstantial life.
This day strife, righteous soap box preachers,
the teachers of doom;
"Make in your heart room for forgiveness to bloom!
Let not hatred condemn you!"
On a water covered pebble we walk, talking of what this or
that could possibly mean.
Until the Universe decides it needs, once more to be clean.
