Boho Cosmos

What do the hot headed stars do  
but seek the cool of the night  
where flares have room to take their flight  
in triumph arcs the angels knew.  
 
From star to star they flew and flew  
as nebulae condensed and spun  
in playgrounds of atomic fun  
and spectral beams where new stars grew.  
 
But in that chaos old stars died  
in detonations so immense  
it fucked up sacred confidence  
like something god had badly fried.  
 
So now the bits are left above  
still glowing from that frightful blast  
when all the big bong angels passed...  
into the astral planes of love.