Hundreds of feet above,

wings ascending, skewering

the sky... as I am enclosed

surrounded by tonnes of waste.

Underneath, I roam as a tiny

spectacle, under the greatest

perplexity, the sky.

Am I the remnants of stardust?

It is comforting in the aspect

that the sky is adamant, and

when I look up during the

night, what we see is the past.

How my life is so ephemeral,

yet the black canvas with

luminous gas and dust clouds,

seem to be inexorable.

My existence is rigid and I

walk into oblivion, in hope

to find the answers of my

origins, and what collided to

start our own universe.