All powerful God, rescue me from this black hole that threatens to swallow me up. The gravity of it tries its best to pull me in, yet all it wants to do is spit me out. It wants to eject me into the vast galaxy so that I feel lost, floating, untethered. So that when I pass a star, I fear getting too close lest it burns me. Before, I looked upon the radiant pulsars as sources of beauty and relief from the ocean of black. I will not be consumed. I will not be stripped of my lightness. Enveloping wings lift me, weightless, full of grace and purpose. The tips of the wings never leave me. If I only grasp one feather, it’s enough. It holds me back from the depths, while I rise above them, hovering. Though I may have to see the nothingness for a time, I am never a part of it. A golden strand saves me. I climb it one grip at a time. The higher I get, the more buoyant I become. Leaping from star to star, able to reach the light, shedding remnants of fear. They, instead of me, get absorbed into the darkness.