Clustering drops, sparkling refuge from icy porthole.

Child’s plaything, of spilt diamonds and organized gold.

Throbbing from the strike of a violin, teeming lifelines against seas of ink.

Obvious of areas, nebulous in glory hold pulses of breath as organic shapes spread out in the environment.

From high up distance they look much akin to stars puncturing airless space.

They seem almost innocent, expendable energy from the sight of the clouds that hang easily.

Yet when on surface, face-to-face they are nothing more then of wires and danger.