What answers wait among the lights of heaven
beyond sorrow and the death of all things?
Frozen always in this moment
I can only stare at the promise of more
bound here to my place at the table
before a feast turning to dust as I watch
this illusion of plenty granted me by the night
so that I might forget the storms raging on high seas
the wind that calls with its soft music
Turn it to silence and look again to the sky of stars
mirrored consciousness radiating down
over and through those nerve endings of a dying god
I would definitely hook my brain up to a computer if it were possible. If I end up part of the Borg, so be it.