For thy sun has long forgotten what it means to be alive,
For he has scoured the skies with brothers of mothers unaccounted for.
How long has been, since his eyes have saw,
How long until he rests again in rumble of the void?
Circling in the years one hundred a million,
Around the grand keeper of souls,
Around himself planets moving as electrons around neutrons in orbits unknown,
Time, what’s the reason, for things to be as they are?
Where have has he came from and where will he go?
Is consciousness predefined on cosmos as whole,
Or are we only neurons in a being of all?
The answers elude me,
They chase me in dreams,
But never will I ever stop thinking,
Why is it so?