I am drizzled by star-light; I lie here on some cool clear surface and feel scoured clean by a caring vastness above. A breeze stokes past as borne by comet-wisp, soft sussurus within my shallow soul and bears it deeper, deeper to and through itself to quietude unknown before, a stillness to all my seeming so greatly foreign that I gasp: I stretch
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As to the meat of it, I like it, though it's not your best work (perhaps unsurprisingly). Or perhaps it's more out of my league than usual. If I can't tell the difference, at what point is it the one and not the other?
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