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Alienation

I am a ufo hanging over
An aphotic landscape—just loitering.
I survey the night. I wait, hovering
Above the clouds that would obscure the stars.
I wander away from familiar
Sights to map out an interstellar sea
Of isolated islands. I'm lon'ly,
Stranded someplace that seems—to me—bizarre.
I'm distant—kept abroad and kept afar.
Like cosmic rocks drifting through empty space,
I orbit elliptic'lly place from place
To return to where my origins are.
Why am I searching? Why am I searching
When I only find traces of nothing?

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