Too dark, too cold
leaving light out of breath
Too rotund, out of shape
despite moving ceaseless
Too self-centred,
spinning about self in rapt silence
Even gravity not pulling enough
once past the comfort of home
On this tiny planet
in the middle of nowhere
or perhaps in some
forgotten crevice of somewhere
Everything just perfect
No room for humour left
Although Australia is wider than the moon
any time of the day or night
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