Dead Stars in Early Graves

I  could only assume that whatever the source of the signals may be, it is confusing the whole universe. I believe that one has to clearly define and expound upon their choices so as to compel the universe to enter  into a wonderful conspiracy. Perhaps, this whole thing is illusory. (Heck, it may have been illusory all along.) But I would like to believe that there is a grain of truth to my universe of thoughts and that may be at some point I was mature and decisive enough to decide upon things that I want. Right now, I have a lot of secrets and I would prefer to keep them in my black holes. I  still see the psychedelic play of colors, the occasional nebula, the supernova I cannot quite ascertain as to existence. I believe that I am, in one way or another, already defying gravity, that is, not wholly being anchored to a lone dead star. I could only hope that one day I could bring back these dead stars into their early graves and shed some ray of light upon my frail fragments smashed into smithereens and forced into hiding in impregnable fortresses of darkness. I abhor my pointless illusions and I wish to embark upon the journey of finding an entire new galaxy of my own. This time, it will be filled with lights and they will never die. Yes, as deferred as this may seem: I still believe in freedom. If I were to take another step forward without ever looking back, indecisiveness is not a choice.

galaxy1

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