VIII. (from Science fails)
There is no innocence in this night of stars;
their appearance and the truth are contrary.
It is the brutal and beautiful annihilation
of cycles and spirals, of worlds.
Every pulse is violent selfishness –
every single one –
through all of the past worlds
or all of those ever to come,
each without end.
They are parsed by an awkward language,
an enormous sense of entitlement
that transcends any tongue.