Audience of billions, billions of years old.
The blanket covering us, keeping us cold.
A veil of blue during the day.
Without being asked, you go away.

The desolate forest in the sky.
Before and beyond mortality's rate.
Watching as our lives go by.
What do you want from this endless wait?

Pathetic and empty the heavens would be.
Without your shining splendor to see.
We are the children that wish upon you.
Yet our granted pleads are far and few.

Empty, quiet, void of fear.
The perfect place for us to disappear.