"When the Thumbs Predicted the Future of the Sky"
The peacocks blossomed in the night,
graffiti lined the horizon's sunrise,
but the needle no longer pointed north,
and finally the sword was pulled from the sun,
revealing the blinded victory set in stone,
she gazed at the endless sea of violet matter,
and then the thumbs predicted the future of the sky.
Poem idea, possibly to inspire an animation?