My soul runs cold, and I
   Fear it might be dying.
 It rises into the sky --
   Horrifyingly flying.

How'd it achieve liftoff,
   And race to such a pace?
 It started to just drift off...
   Now: the cold vacuum of space.

Dare I hope for a snap back
   When it reaches tether-end?
 Or intergalactic bushwhack,
   Stumbling lost with no descent.

Maybe, it'll sprawl on forever
   To the universe's edge.
 I might not be so clever,
   But I'll be a universe full-fledged.