The wanderer once lost himself on a tour of tomorrow's hazy past.
Have you captured the whispers of distant suns?
Absurd men ask absurd questions, not for answers,
But because silence answers everything when you listen hard enough.
The moons conspire to dance around a non-existent axis while
the tides pull inward, dreaming of the outward.
You are, yet you seem lost, wandering through orbital pulses,
Reflecting on reflections that have long since eroded.