Prisoner of Consciousness

Please interpret this as you may.

A projectile floating through empty space on a linear path towards no target sees all the cosmos and makes no judgements, no assessment. 

The moons that reflect like shards of glass, the lights that would belong to the stars and suns alike, coalesce to reveal an illuminating path forward. 

An intrepid path forward for a discerning projectile floating through empty, emotionless space. 

An infinite sky widens with time, leaving no end to the lonely endeavour, reminding itself that this is the only forever. 

The only unstoppable, the sorry yet hostile ghost that is painted on the inside of all existence. 

It takes it's place, makes it's face known to an exhausted proton prevailing through empty space. 

The planets, though carved from dusts and dead matter, exist to forge and tamper with the course. 

While directions will change the projectile stays the same, condemned to the cosmos with no reason, no name. 

I'd love to change the world, but I don't know what that is

Author's Note

There's not much to work with, but commentary is most welcome.