What is heaven? A globe of dew
Filling in the morning new,
Some eyed flower whose young leaves waken
On an unimagined world;
Constellated suns unshaken,
Orbits measureless, are furled
In that frail and fading sphere,
With ten million gathered there
To tremble, gleam and disappear.-Percy Bysshe Shelley
Beth Poe | Free Form 