He’s the space man, and he’s out of this world
Planets **** about his waist, fingertips warm.
On Sunday he blitzes the Milky Way
like a silver bullet, its the crazy guy holding the gun. Not me. For he's
like a star just born. His fingertips warm
treading lightly through the maze
of light and creation.

A keen look in his curling smile, he
leaps to catch the morning's first flight
on the climbing glimmers of a shooting star,
that so shimmers against the warm Spring nights.

The sunken sun, resting below
his feet, his body stands alone.
Wrapped in a pink and yellow glow,
he sets out on the voyage home
to the furthest reaches, the universe edge
where vast forests creep in the dust and smoke,
he waits,
in silence
he waits,
for Monday
when he's reborn. His fingertips warm.

As I gaze up at the sky,
I have a strange sense of deja vu.
I look beyond the moon,
and on my breath,
my soul lifts to stars
light years from here.
To cosmic worlds
of planets and galaxies.
Where blackholes breach
the edge of space and time.
Where asteroids as large as planets
travel through the Milky Way.
Occasionally,
colliding,
leaving clouds of
interstellar dust behind
in their wake.
I breathe in,
then out,
and my soul returns
on an even breath,
leaving me with just
a brief taste
of the world
from which I came.

I feel so much time on my hands, and with so much time.
I waste it away,
I feel I have little time on my hands and with so little time,
I rush and scramble about to hold onto it.

It's been said that time is an illusion,
a phenomenon made by humans.

Animals don't worry about time,
they worry about family, food, the sun, the moon,
water, no water.
earth, no earth.

Humans worry about birthdays, lateness, money, bills,
manicure, no pedicure.
gas, no gas.

Time. I worry about it,
I worry about my family, food, the sun, the moon,
water, earth, birthdays, manicures and no pedicures.

Will this mean something in a few years?
will time wear on the pages?
Will my time have run out to see it?

I feel so much time on my hands, and with so much time.
I waste it away,
I feel I have little time on my hands and with so little time,
I rush and scramble about to hold onto it.

There must be more than this.
More than what lies
beyond the deep,
blue sky.
Where stars condense,
and collide.
Where glalaxies spin,
and multiply.
Where life blooms,
but never dies.
There must be more
than what lies
at the end
of an ordinary life.

You gave him entire galaxies
But in his mind
All he saw was a single planet.

I'll meet you
at the beginning of time,
where the stars
cross the milkyway.
Where Saturn spins
on a golden axis.
We'll watch
as stars condense,
and collide,
as creation reigns
through the black veil of space.
I swear to you,
we will get it right.
No more cursing at Gods
that never seem to listen.
There is only us,
drifting through space,
10,000 light years
away from home.
My love,
never have we
been more free.