No place above you, when you are above.

I am not of the world,

to accept that I would be

of this terran surface

is to condemn myself.

This perdition

is not where

I cast the nets of my mind.

The net is strewn into the crystals

of the ice and light.

It is dreamt that I shall walk

among my deepest friends;

To enter my sanctuary,

the darkness and cool;

and unto myself

this dream is sole.

I shall pace the beacons alone.

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This entry was posted in Astronomy, Poetry, Writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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