I was a-coast on outer rims
without tether to a solid rock;
alive on streams and solar winds,
dodging tides superfluous.
I'd long ago undressed my suit
and evolved to breathe the absence of
all the brightest stars I'd seen
and replicas through microphones.
All my precious atoms had
decided on their phosphorescence
when the dark became too much for them,
ending my own coalescence
from a mind and body towards
a being of a cosmic sourcing,
lost to mortal men who dwell
on dictum of a bible's sorting.
Thus I began to separate
from center of my gravity,
all the way until I'd formed
a glowing stable galaxy
with stars abound for years all 'round,
a many suns to warm the skies,
blackest holes to eat their fill
and denizens that multiply.

Then I spied a satellite
with dark and glinting features
that seemed to pass on through all right,
until it turned to look.
And when I saw it in the eyes,
I felt my state begin to fade.
My lights were dim and gathering
toward an inevitable center.
All recorded history
that had been taken down in me
collapsed at once into a mind
who often sought to ask the news
and act as if he'd not a clue
to the vacant, rigid state of things,
behaving like a primal beast
who'd never seen the city.

In my shell of antiquity,
I'd re-familiarize my limbs,
then set to seek my satellite
only to remember.
So I sat upon the ground
and carved things in the dirty mat
of living things we stack upon
and call each lane our home.
Thinking of my satellite,
the one in shades of brown,
who looked me then dead in the face,
and forced me back to Earth.
When I tried a lifting off,
I looked just like a drunkard in space,
a shipwreck on land;
a fool who was in love.