Musing 66 Poem by shuvo chakraborty

If the sky tends to merge with indefinite
Then what use to deploy the fencing clouds?
Floating selves upon the universal emptiness
Will never show us our actual abode.
None can measure the glory of stars
And the expanse of arching galaxy ever,
What definite is the length of our breath
Throat ending skipping the fire abreast.
What purpose shall we serve for the millenium
If the motion constant fortify our stagnation?