a day late, a memory short.  a moment began long before either of us could breathe and each moment was what vaguely resembled telepathy.  dying dreams to go to sleep or sweet escapes that scream defeat.  your moment is your time and everything will rewind or soon repeat.

rocket ships can't hear us now when the stage two blasts have passed.  and the only friend we'll have will be the person we see in the glass.  auroras of mind won't be hard to find and the magnetism of the stars will reflect on you. i've vandalized our only way home so you know that I'm telling the truth.

i've utilized the moment and caressed it into motion.  I've become the self denying symptom of devotion or a universal explosion, or whatever it is that reminds us of what we're holding; a map for a plan that we can't understand as it's still being written and no one's around to promise the land.  

we'll dig until we find mars or at least a better path through the stars.