The weightless factor of gods,

is nothing compared to the slipstream of mere mortal thought,

That loses hold of its' self-righteous semaphore.

I have questions of ethics and esoteric evolutions.

What must it be like to pull anchor on our gravity,

And ascend into the periphery to seek an audience of micro chip angels?

Still where in a womb under wraps in cling film.

Is there entrance when we die?