How can I be there,
When not a single feather grows on my back?
And my lungs are not strong enough?
I cannot fly nor swim,
Such a distance without wings nor gills.

To me the stars seem closer,
As if travelling across light-years and back,
Would be quicker than to cross the ocean.
After all, neither can see the other,
But we both gaze at those distant lights.

Were I to fly or swim to meet her,
What would I say?
What would she say?
Perhaps it would not matter,
After all, for the first time,
We could marvel at the universe from the same angle.

And words would not be important.