Green reels upon cosmic strands turning superstition, I see breaking off one by one to create one and all in evolution’s hall
Man
Man is at the end of his time the cruel bastards will vacate things are watching and watching well diligently every day peaking between the clouds then hiding so quickly I miss them with a blink they are like silverfish in clouds but they are glinting ships slipping in and out from view in eons of time they have always watched but man has had enough time to Chang unfortunately he hasn’t so we wait