The ceiling of the night trembles

The ceiling of the night trembles, And I, at the edge of the highest floor, Lose myself in watching passersby— Their size smaller than my grasp of this game.
Eight thousand nine hundred pages for nothing! An attempt to justify that no great mistake was made. An imagined creation, A false choice, And the artificial ticking of seconds To give meaning to the truth of foolishness.
I was ignorant and lowly, Searching in every moment for a why I never knew. For a why you never understood, For it was rooted in my existence.
A why that even you do not know, For you have never stood where I have. Never felt what I felt, Never heard the sound, Never smelled nor tasted the—
And now, an insatiable hunger for flight. You began, and I believed— But its ending…
You know I will be lost, And the roar of dreams is never enough. You know I have been lost for years.
I said I was ignorant and lowly, And I sold the grand kindness of your beginning For the meager price of an ending.
You were the only good one, So stay— Stay with the echo of eternity. And sometimes, Miss me.
A creator beyond compare— Oh! Again. And now regret holds meaning, For I was never made to fly.