In low earth orbit
I see where a star fell last night.
Where the wind passed
through the grass.
The cadence of the sea
flocked with white wings
to the shore.
And our worrying of the planet goes on
with stone and glass,
patched fields,
the tapers of candles
going out at dawn.
In low earth orbit
I hear the silence of space,
experience our inching
from the mouse hole
where we were born.
For this instant in time
we are touching the sleeves
of the gods.
Perhaps with their blessing
going on a phantasmal journey
we can only guess at.
Perhaps,
to encounter the almighty itself,
and become as gods ourselves,
born from imaginal atoms
going somewhere,
we have never traveled.