Those stars we reach for

stay in a dark hole, infundibular store, somewhere in galactic fantasy

sucked in, they die; blown up, they light our night-sky

the darkness we hide is our reality, the rest is our playful imagination that crawls, walks, runs and flies

set in a space digitalised by our mental keypad strokes

scrolled up, down and aligned from left to right, right to left and every which way on whole

a dimension for each thought, a revelation for each belief, a prayer for the unimaginable unknown

in this multidimensional mirror maze, where our eyes gaze at each other from every corner and space

we are left to die or live in waste

if we do not create something in haste as soon as we are taught that a comatose child is the star

that dropped into our lap when it is just our imagination worked up to a solid white

its dark falling on the blind eye, creation sets creatures against each other

you die, i live, i die, you live or we all die together and others take over

In this space we create for ourselves we accomodate many who have eaten into our space

and we eat them, kill them, raze them, overthrow, we create more and more emptiness in our imaginary play field

filling it up with plastic, concrete and the immovable, indestructible even by us

thus we lend our idea of immortality to such things who edge us out one by one

killing our creativity by replacing it with routine, mundane existence

that has lost its power to know only one good thing

how to occupy space and darken it by blocking the sun that stood for our collective gifts

our collective gift of throwing light on what we could be had we been atoms

atoms that weren’t afraid to draw heat, share heat, fire-up, light-up, burn, ablaze with blitzkreig creativity

and explode into billions of sub-atomic light-giving diamonds of brilliance

hard to stare at, but lighting up the path to get out through the dark hole from which stars escape at night