Confined to this space, where nothing is clear,
suspended under the blue canopy of stratosphere.
A window stands between time's span and space,
unearthly wisdom derived from heavenly grace.

We fly on through like spray across the sky,
with our broad wings open to stifle the cries.
Above the equations, riding rivulets of jet streams,
we catapult into tomorrows, on wisps of dreams.

Soaring expanse of blue fluorescent universe;
There are times in solitude, we all feel the curse,
of fortunes missed, loves lost, or led astray,
concurrently violated by the vices of yesterday.

Confined by infinity, another day, another year,
suspended under this umbrella of stratosphere.
A window stands between time span and space,
unearthly wisdom furnished by heaven's grace.