I am aware that infinity is inside of me. I dream of pulsars, comets, and intergalactic nebulous rings spread across the galaxies. Because the world is not my home. My spirit longs for something vaster. They study planetary activities elsewhere on the moon. Like Mr. Heron says, I'm only a mirror. Down here. What I see, my spirit in conscious being, isn't trapped. My body is just caught in the net of the nine to five. Worry follows the living like a stench