Spark Poem by Butch Decatoria

Stars are best noticed in the dark, when empty pitch is not without and truly becomes what it always was—twilight evening vast with stars and dust.
And by the little lights that freckle the Void, beneath the Milky Way, moon, and asteroids, we give names to such Hyperion bodies of yore and beyond—by those who first made a wish upon, claiming to own its discovery. Speaking for God.
The Universe always at odds, but we set fire to our kin, worship lustful chaos and pretend... we can become what we conquer, self deceivingly believing the hype of lies made giants in the eyes of weaker minds... continue to consume the very life of Earth and Time... a waste land of wishing in the dark,
An intelligence that endangers its own heart, by enslaving the mind and killing Mother, and love's living spark.