It is

Making a path

By walking

I feel the weight of nearly a hundred moons upon this suggestive flight deck, overtaken by transfusion in a high formation rhythmic way. Fluorescent headphones—neon red, rotate around neutral zones. Push in, pull out. Swim under the pink, towards some aerobatic link to mother earth. And still, we're not in orbit yet. Your dawning glow you blow into my lungs. Will you catch me if I blast away?

It is but one dilation of a sacred pupil, One blink of an eternal eye,
One moment made almost final,
Close to the eye's event horizon,
One rolling sphere of goodbye.