Sing to me, O muse of Skies.

On a long road trip, my friends and I decided to stop in the desert and gaze up at the stars...

Millions of stars in the sky, and Billions in the gaps.

Endless futures and endless chances all kept under wraps.

Not by a power hungry man or some hidden establishment.

But by our own mortal condition. Our own mortal predicament.

Pollution and plague and war destroy when we only wish to create.

Cruel is the man who our chances destroy and evil is he who our hopes do take

However wicked and sly a time will come, and arise will better men.

The Stars will part to welcome us. The children of these better men.

So be it alive, be it dead. I will see you in that big dark sea of stars and life with no end.

For the Audacity of the Stars.

For the pitch around them far.