Planets

Born to a Wednesday in my perspective,

I was perhaps meant to live ablaze such as Icarus,

if it were not for the waxy coating.

Such is the way of life traveling through,

beauty was never meant for me,

but alas, neither of us have moons.

And so I go, as I was born here, Earth:

filled with the dirt of ancestoral knowledge,

pitied by those creative in sadness.

Yet, red in passions gone. Steady handed,

taller than my own patience,

such is the way of technological intents.

Eternally brewing in eyes of a storm,

with mass invisible to the naked eye,

day by day changing, ready to shrink.

Rung as a bell reverberating,

rings of dust unsettled,

alas moons begin to be plentiful.

Bountiful in symmetry as,

aesthetic and willpower or organic,

lucky, oh, how lucky I am.

To have reached such devilish places,

hued, whichby is of pantone blue,

forever I could go.

If it weren't for the observant few.