Falling through the immeasurable heaven,
the value of life is not bounded by
its lifetime, no inhale untethered
to the wind, never a star so grand
to survive the burn of time.

So many lights that streak and wink
in the cold space all around me.

My neck creaks as I crane my head
way back, my field of vision
parallel to the axis of all creation.

This would be easier lying down,
my back upon earth, strapped in,
ready for takeoff.

All systems go.

Chagall 2019

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