Is the empty space

In the human race

Shaped like something shapeless?

Shaped like something mystical

And magical and faceless?

Shaped like something circular

And infinite and endless?

Shaped like something irregular

And immortal and deathless?

Is the thing that should complete me

Not a thing at all?

Is it a mystery miles wide

And many light years tall?

But none of it makes sense:

Is the only thing that counts

An elusive figure in the sky

That I know nothing about?