Ephemeral dagger please pierce the veil,

through murky layers of blurred detail.

A phantom light; it glitters in the deep,

the question of fate still haunting my sleep.

Cryptic messages translated by pulsars,

a clear night's poem only punctuated by lost stars.

Drenched in light and stripped of dubiety,

a tightrope of treasures, aligned, so quietly.

Destiny's spider will profess the truth,

of its sacred journey between two moons,

dripping with jewels and souvenirs of utopia,

one precious fall will cure the myopia.