Vulpecula

Vulpecula

When will the seekers learn
There’s no such thing
As one perfect thing

There are different
Kinds
Of perfect

Some you can taste
Some you can hear
Some you can see

And some that give you
A funny feeling
All on its own

Like being adrift
In the Bootes Void
On a derelict

Like buckshot stasis
Outside when rain
Needles your skin

Perfects
No perfect
Or imperfect

Like destiny in your hands
As you tug on the filament
Of galaxy walls

A great woods
For a great camping
Trip in nowhere

Now here
A little fox
Skitters in the galactic bush

Explosive cyclogenesis
Dumps an arm of stars
Upon your head

You are now here
Little fox
Things are grand

There is more to the world
Than voids and threads
There is so much more

There is nuance
Delirium
Ennui

Boredom so vast
You can summon
Dreaming cities in your mind

Moonlight winnows in
Igneous riptide
Choking the ego from your soul

Vulpecula the hunter
Seeking meaning in
Nothing

Go experience
Threads of this universe
And enjoy its wonder