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Oh god, look at that pompous prick poking perilously into the open sky. I bet he thinks he’s better than all of us. “How’s the weather down there?” he says, “I can see everything from up here.”

Fucking asshole.

I’ll have you know that we are all made of the same material, okay. We are all concrete, rebar, and metal, and subjects of Jay-Z’s love song. So, just shut up.

Dick.


 ------


The universe boils, and incandescent lights of marvelous purple and blue rise like steam. They reach out to touch, across an endless expanse of more smoke, and more space.


 ------


Rustle in the tall grass: the wind is invisible but yet I can chart its path through the greenery. At first unclear, yet the sun rises ever steadily. It breaks over the horizon, meekly, and whispers a morning greeting to all of heaven’s creation. The mountains ascend to consciousness, and greet the sun back.



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