The wanderer

I was traveling through
a dark nothing, the sky
fainted in the space,
the sun I saw was green with
anger, the confused moon,
with blue horror, they thought
their lights would breed life,
but overlooking the debris
of deaths, the stars felt
their function was rendered
useless, like poor cousins,
they hung in shame.

In the midst of enormous rubble
and scree, I glanced upon
a smiling child that ran into
a sapling; the sky seemed to
have regained consciousness,
the stars also got back their
colours, but I wondered
on the purpose.