Oh, to be a stellar dust!
Quietly shimmering, perhaps with moondust rust.
Amongst galaxies we roam, yet alone, unseeing
Inside my spaceship drawn with crayon.
In the zephyred lanes, astronauts laugh their hollow laughs,
But there's really nothing in their space helmets.
★
Happy stars grin down, painting irony with their gas.
Would you like a veil, miss? An interstellar cape?
We could parachute gently to Mars, if we escape
The bird that breathes in black holes,
whispering all realities... or is it but a wince?
Trace labyrinths