Learn'd astronomer, wherefore art thou?

I have been, for all intents and purposes, completely unproductive as of late. I fear I may be transforming into the ghost of the universe, the lonesome neutrino, with my radioactive struggle to interject myself amongst the myriad of elements drifting afloat these spatial planes. We are one and the same, my hollow head falls through the Earth, there is no longer a turgid desire to escape my own prison, all this wasted geometry is already enough to drive a man intangible. All we are is silence, an unbounded whisper flowing steadily through the cosmos, you may reach out and feel nothing, not knowing that all you wanted was to feel the light caress of the wind as it playfully whips the breadth of your fingers.
It is most fortunate then that we occupy less space now than a drop of air.