u/AllTheP1V07NamesTook

I’m the singularity in the clarity of the parity, A light-year disparity in the rarity of the charity. While they’re tethered to the orbit of a mundane stone, I’m a red-shifted specter in a void-bound zone. The expansion of the scansion is a mansion in the stars, Beyond the gravitational bars of the Jupiter and Mars. I’ve reached the heliopause of the syntactic laws, Leaving stardust in the jaws of the critics and the flaws. My lexicon is dark matter, a scatter of the light, A pulsar in the night with a gamma-ray might. You can’t calculate the distance or the persistence of existence, In the infinite assistance of the lyrical resistance. I’m the Omega Point, the anoint of the joint, The disjoint of the point, the counterpoint of the point. I’ve traveled to the edge of the ledge of the wedge, A sacrosanct pledge in the cosmological hedge. They’re stuck in the stratosphere, frozen in the atmosphere, While I’m the engineer of the frontier of the pioneer.

While the industry is clinging to the swinging of the blinging, I’m the bringing of the ringing in the stringing of the singing. I’ve reached escape velocity, a metrical ferocity, An optical luminosity avoiding the precocity. They’re stuck in the mud of the thud and the blood, The atmospheric pressure is a lesser kind of mesher, While I’m the fresher professor in the stellar compressor.

Navigating. Asteroids. Avoiding. The-void. Lyrically. Employed. Industry. Destroyed. They’re chasing the currency, a recurrent urgency, I’m the detergent emergent in the surgical divergency. I thread the needle through the debris of the feeble, The illegal regal eagle in the sequel. It’s a fragmented augmented unrelented scented Documented invented precedented dented flow. While they overdose on the comatose diagnose, I’m the prose of the cosmos in the grandiose. I calculate the trajectory, the vector of the rectory, The planetary directory in the lyrical trajectory.

I’m the center of the galaxy, the remedy of-the fallacy, The energy of-the majesty without the tragedy of-the strategy. I’m phasing through the nebula, the regular is the secular, The-spectacular-is-the-vernacular-in-the-molecular-reticular. They’re fixated on the bitches and the riches in the ditches, While I’m stitching up the glitches in the physics of-the nitches. I’m a supernova explosion, a total corrosion Of the motion of the erosion in the ocean of the implosion. You can’t mimic the mechanics of-the panics of-the organics, In the titanic vatic shamanic of the intergalactic dynamics.

I’ve passed the heliopause, beyond the trivial laws, Of the clout and the applause and the commercial flaws. I’m in the interstellar medium, avoiding the tedium, Of the greedium precedium in the lyrical iridium. The vacuum is silent, the science is pliant, A giant defiant in the radiant gradient. They’re still fighting for the soil, in the toil and the oil, While I uncoil the spiral of the cosmic royal. Interplanetary. Legendary. Visionary. The dictionary of the missionary is extra- tershee-airy. Intelligence is the fuel for the fusion? No. The mind is the multiverse.