That nonsensical tilt to the Heavens,
Seat of our Mythos…no the eye records
A whisper of the Starlight, as a sea
That swirls infinitely, from our feet craven,
To the helix of Prometheus, all must accord
Inwardly to face the brightness of day,
What is hidden from us, the already woven,
Of hope in the deepest well, roared
silently, Space…to see to see to see
That nonsensical tilt to the Heavens,
As a key, left in the mind, to be flowered
For pollen, to germinate the Galaxies
To call home,

Wonderful Illustration by D is for Doodle, http://disfordoodle.com