All the clouds have faded,
and the azure sky has darkened
to its preternatural light, the moon
in its swift sorrow beckoning the end.

as the plane moves down the runway
all I can see are stars, shining bright
through the treacherous winds of the night
though none of them shine for me.

and as the lights get brighter, and the
landing site gets closer, I realize that
the lights, those shining orbs, were only
in my mind; and that buildings were those
fiery flames beckoning to me from afar.

Why is it that man must play god??
That we feel it is our duty, our natural
right, for us to trick nature into playing
mortal’s fool? The Devil always wins,
laughing at our self-afflicted demise.