we scan the white noise of heaven, hoping
something out there will speak to us
decibels above the cosmic background fuzz
to offer a thread of connection to skies which appear infinite yet contain nothing of ourselves
we scan the white noise of heaven, hoping
anything out there can speak to us
not just clanging of astronomic machines
to sooth the anxiety of life in a universe which never lived, never thrived, never dreamed
if we are the universe's way of observing itself, then what does its silence say?
our problem to ponder
wordlessly, we scan the white noise of heaven, hoping
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