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.