Only this ominous dark beauty
and the western sky,
storms flock like pigeons in a nutshell.
The universe is vast: we see clusters
of stars pinpointed
by a scientist's telescope like candle flames
flickering in the Milky Way.
Paint the sky, you tell me, use a black paintbrush to
take it all in. Shaped like a V, the numbers scroll
across the galaxy in mathematical
equations, almost like God's great
musical of the stars.
Humankind, so small, they are tiny
ants on an anthill.
And the universe, dark without end.