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?

the crescent moon did not set for the world tonight
chandelier near a pin-point planet in the void black sky
a giant turtle labors as it carries four elephants
balancing the world on their backs in time and space

many have been to the edge to look over into the depths
there the waters churn, creating, recreating in white vortices
many forms emerge as we aim our red eye further
blinking occasionally to believe or disbelieve what seems

flippers stroke, swimming endlessly in cosmic oceans
while pachyderm memories log in history’s journal
hieroglyphic charts and maps of fleeing galaxies
hungry gravity holes, with dark arms, chasing after

tilt is not in their vocabulary trunks, all or nothing being
in the wake, comets and asteroids weave destinies
stars nova, birth and boil, leaving a frothy foam
of life gazing out, waiting another plunge into sunshine

-cec

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.