The dim flicker of but the brightest of stars
Is all that reaches me here, in my urban prison.

To see the night sky properly,
To see the shimmering arc of the milky way,
The light of four hundred billion suns painted across the sky.

Such a sight would reach not just to me, but into me.
It would reach my soul, and light it with the warmth of the universe.

And there I could be free.