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unfinished
dotting many suns amonst the heaven
attracted to nebulae and burn
the dragon gazes upon an eon
with long drawn breaths
and leaps of faith
he questions the cosmos
he tastes the colors in multitudes
occassionly one with attitude
perturbs and draws the gaze rudely
jets of annoyance sprout forth
as if in a loud retort he says
Of this plane, Be no more
engulfing many fathoms of heaven
the thought, at speeds of seven,
resetting the clock once more
an epiphany shrinks into Will
as the heavens find still
a nova of change and chance
