Galaxy
Someday, I want to count how many stars are in the sky. I want to hear the stories from the constellations themselves, And I want to talk to the moon. I can’t imagine the magnitude of the wisdom Which would escape the galaxies if they could shift Into mortal entities And engage with our consciousnesses. We would awaken within us our deepest selves, Equipped for the present day, An era which we neglect until it is nonexistent. We are in perpetual motion, Seeking answers for the questions We have yet to ask. We ignore the fleeting sun rays beating down on our face To focus instead on the darker hues hugging the horizon. What a privilege it must be to be star To exist in such radiance That its being transcends time And enters our sphere Without so much as a hesitation. I wish I could see further into space So I could be blessed with colors I cannot conceive (I want to understand without understanding). How fortunate to be an astronaut, To be able to exist in two worlds at once Reality And Earth To be able to surrender yourself To the purgatory Between heaven and earth And earth and space. Although, I anticipate Being plagued by fears That the universe would swallow me, And I would become a victim Of the vast nothingness That paradoxically holds no power and all power At once— Only then would I become one With the very foundation of my soul, The specs of matter that seduced each other Enough to form my visage And my inner being.
I will be so awake.