👁️ on the sky

For how long shall we speak of the sky?

The sky is not there; it never was.

I wonder how it looks from Jupiter,

Or from a dead star beyond the Solar System!

Is it all dark, or is it crimson red?

Is it what it should be, anywhere else?

What is a dead star, by the way?

Are we alive until we burn, or until we stay?

Who decides the rules and who gets to play?

Is a dead star full of coal? Is it only a planet?

I look up to the Sky, for I have stories to tell,

I have a stomach to feed and dreams to sell.

Time glides by countless stars, careless;

Infinite's irony, glued to periodic frames.