Ember evening, summers night,
Burnt sienna
Painted within our sky.
A clement sigh beneath a tree,
Upon a hill, in complete solitude.
In the midst of gloom, i lay my head,
On flocculent petals, stained with guerlain.
In awe i am towards thy surrealistic canvas,
Counting nameless stars;
Far but close our naked eyes and
Remote planets, taunting us in plain sight
Who dwell in cosmoses grand halls,
Seated on nothing attended
By celestial slaves.
Woe,
I weep dismay,
For our astronauts aided by science,
Holds no invite,
Their grant denied.