With my limited and parallax view,
I look keenly to stars, to their being,
to what immensity beyond ‘ere lies;
to the eclipses of both sun and moon,
as in their shadows, horizon of space,
that vast expanse, immeasurable still.
‘Ere I fathom the void, to contemplate,
elect and draw upon my imagined eye,
to see myself in deep and distant realm,
wherein, I lie in wonder to gaze at stars,
just as I do on this earth, but with flesh;
‘ere now I seem as a wisp of moonlight,
’til both mind and flesh become the stars.
I am but mortal issue, borne of star stuff,
‘ere I lie awake to bid my kin their due;
these stars, mortal as I, burn in seasons,
and too, fade to die, sometimes o’er eons;
that I am the stuff such as stars are made
begs the question of this infinity within,
and tho’ mortal, do I exist to know stars,
or do the stars exist but to question me?