The universe is deaf to cries and tears

It has its own agenda

Busily balancing orbiting spheres

Not open to referenda

Space isn’t really a vacuum

It contains gravitational waves

Ignoring life, a silent tomb

Despising my frequent raves

How beautiful is the nighttime sky

The stars bring comfort and hope

Do those enslaved constellations try to defy

Their limitless yet static scope?

You, you are my universe

Yet you never hear my plea

Icy, so stubbornly perverse

You continue to smother me…

© 2015 ViataMaja