Rolling around in the dirty mud, only stars can exist above. You watch them cleanly with pure eyes and understand they do not shoot all once. Some fall and turn to dust, become greater in there residue lust. Whisking away with a motion that does not obey. It hears the call of the wind and takes it where it wants to go in pieces. Broken, but delivered fully. Hooray! A place that can take shape and change at any moments notice, unfolding its desire at will.