Fragile cosmos; not expanding but exploding what it wished were a
soulful, solitary display

All of His contemplations;
a quarry of quandry for
which the upper depths of
space are the baseline

Stars, no longer an expression of a
dying Son, ethearalize upon a canvas that can either
crush The Father

or remain
painted on the dark side of the
moon; a face mistaking it's
frown for a grin, nobody to correct him

Of His own volition;
a never-ending shift of balances

throwing Everyone into it's tantric evolution

Shotten wishes, raining onto the unawakened

Hushed gasps collapsing into
vacuous nothingness