Azaaxin

The world freezes in the arms of Time, As if holding its breath, waiting for something – Anything – to happen before the morning bells chime, But there is nothing except a distant cricket-song and my own breathing I gaze into the sky, sprinkled with stars like fragmented glass, Stretching into a world undisturbed by mankind; And as my toes curl into damp grass, I contemplate the angelic world overhead, undefined. A star is born every time we dream – The sky never holds the same constellations twice For we evolve, causing the night to gleam With wonders and hopes of paradise