Plastic skin over cold solid, moving glass
	full moon upon your face.
The silence not disturbed by ripples,
	but a multitude stars pierce the dark.

Calls of Egyptian geese in flight,
	sounding out from the depths of night.

The chill air burns with splendour,
	like tangy orange juice, sweet and sharp.
It cuts through me,
	and I abandon myself to its blades.

Absorbed in the heavens,
	abstracted and my soul extracted.
My body sits empty and cold,
	but my spirit soars
		in the warmth of the darkness -
			drifting and freed from pain.

The world sleeps and the universe is mine.