If, as I hack through this forest of punc-fiction stars
	I fire a scream
	will it be heard
	one hundred thousand dark years away
	a distant future flashback
	destined for
             --delete--

	And if, as I fritter into fragments of exploded myths
	I wake
	will universal truth materialise
	osmotic black and radiant white
	simplicity disintegrating symbiosis
	in my achromatic garden of sterile flowers?

	Myriad questions punctuate perfection's sentence...

	Is there life before death?
		screened from a spectrum of murmured greys
	or life everlasting?
		heaven's scent sating earthly appetite
	Is isolation the final frontier?
		a personalised spacebook circumscribed by cellular dysfunctionaries

	What if, as I probe the hollow metaphysics of the unknown
	I lose a tear
	to find that I'm alone out here
	will I  simply                 disappear
	behind the shadow of my last breath of light?
	or recognise my place
	and        d  r  i    f     t         i      n         s        p        a         c         e          ...

                                                                               ?