On the wings borrowed from the angel of the darkest night for a spaceship that would carry me into deep space, as was contrived from the junkyard of forsaken Physics I was mourning love and then desire, I rode it, as the wings would crumble and fall till they were gray, and the stars shied and eloped far away at speeds immeasurable to man, there was milky way with its mighty clan I rested in the penthouse wrought of neutron star Had no joystick, no wood to kindle pyre just burning cinders of supernova glimmered in the faintest distance hungering for ire I carried a basket full of tar and coal to burn and then light the darkest night to olive timber that when shot upon the nebula would say, "Welcome to Alpha Century" the only way where the space forms conical well by inches of the diameter that was once a great sky and which could douse the within fire and say the darkest night was a bride of black hole lurking in the autumnal column of the spring that was my cosmos