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Sprinkles of glass

a shattered windshield is the night sky

provides a vista of a panel seeing out at space

the year is 4000 you do not know where you are

the galaxy has nearly mirror images

immense gas clouds

wandering rogue bodies intersecting the known

the incredibly dense gravity core black holes

everything can be swallowed into

the past is the present is the future

a craft with alive humans as an experiment

point A point B point C aimed for some reason at stars

the civilization dusts and crumbles behind

called a crisis network, nothing found.