Somewhere between the fast food cosmos and the disposable universe lies a ceiling made of stars,
an ironic tombstone for dreams that never left the coffee shop counter.
Modern convenience has outfitted the Milky Way with WiFi;
we are but brief guests tapping our phones,
looking for meaning in emoji constellations.
Curious nebula, do you feel the cosmic churn?
More selfies taken than supernovae,
yet still we whisper wishes 'neath plastic skies.
Seeking serenity?
Fear not the cosmos' vastness, nor its haunting echo,
but taste the irony routed in the stillness,
much like the seashell's mock voice.
Delve deeper into nothingness:
Serving the Abyss
or perhaps bubble into some clarity:
Muse of Dwarves