call me - crazy - ******      insane!
     but I believe in the rising sun
          the hidden secret     a gem     (the necessity)
     as it scales the sky - expansive  space - each day
     and maybe I     alone     hold on to the stars
          the plastic shapes that glow     in the dark
          clinging to the ends of the sticky tack
          so old that they've started to fall down     ((shooting stars -
          do my wishes count?))
     or the fireballs of gas so high up there     in the world unknown
     they might as well be theoretical
isn't everything theoretical then?     if theoretical is just the next uncertainty?
how I wish there were answers to the theoretical     then there'd be truth and validity and reason and rhyme -

but no.     they call me insane,      after all.