Nebula

My life is an object flying through outter space.

Formulated by amazing accretions

Stars, big balls of hot gas burning hotter than fire.

My light, speeding past with haste and determination.

The Chromosphere is the goal and Earth’s time is too long to wait.

Can’t I take Mercury’s time; it’s eighty-eight days to date.

No matter the speed of light, time treads on slowly.

Asteroids menafest and blackholes are growing;

Sucking in all aspiring light this galaxy is holding tightly too.

Envious am I of others elliptical galaxies;

See them run smooth with no complex structers.

While mine is filled with nothing but the cold feeling of the many eclipsing binaries.