There is a comet

floating through this endless night

embraced with perfect symmetry

through the teardrop of infinity

in a window call the universe with no map

or intention

towards some floating destination

it will find

it will be found



no pride

no guilt

no hate

no ending



it sings its song

sings with a crooked tongue

looking off into a crooked sky

wondering what a mortal hand or eye

could carve this comet on its course

like a blind man riding on a croked horse

returning to the source with no thought

has ever happened

in time

wont be imagined



no pride

no guilt

no hate

no ending



no pride

no guilt

no hate

no ending