Stars are gone,
As are the gods,
Pale shades of
What once was.
The has-beens
Of the cosmos,
Their legacies etched
Forever into the
Fabric of space,
But struck from
The tapestries of
Time and sky,
Burned into ash
From the morning
Sun's light upon
Break of dawn.
Blind eyes strain
Past the veil
Hanging, lying there
Upon our faces,
Hands too small,
Grasping at it's
Mysteries, to feel
The icy chill
Of it's touch.
The mind, however
Is more powerful
Than any god,
Wilder than any
Expanse of the universe.
For within, we
Create our own.