Adrift

She's there, like some sort of object in space,
Brilliant and beautiful, also unknown,
And the astronaut in me must orbit a while
Before I can understand what I am seeing.
Perhaps she is toxic, and I would be wise
To move on. After all, there are many more
Planets, but maybe she's what I have sought
All these years as I've journeyed, and aged,
And grown ever sadder: a sanctuary, a place
Which could heal me. I doubt that she is.
But I may be mistaken. Should I crash my
Craft, take off my mask, and face her?
That could be the end of me, but I don't care.
I am tired of drifting through darkness, not
Landing. I'll touch her, and hope I'll survive.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 48 times
Written on 2021-07-30 at 03:34

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