1st Annual Voyage to Space

[Quixilated]

Stars

I am standing still. 
Below me the earth spins
relentlessly endlessly 
slowly. I dig my feet 
into the cool grass 
to hold on, to ground
my senses, to still myself 
completely, and then 
I look up.
The stars overhead sing,
they spin, they guide
the sailors and the mystics,
the secret whispered wishers,
the silent night fishers.
They burn as they turn
hotter than heart’s fire. 
They try to warm the night sky, 
that cold abyss of ancient dust 
and beams of light traveling.
Traveling, traveling 
farther than I can comprehend
only to land in the end
on my upturned eyes,
as I ask with heady bliss 
for the stars to grant my wish.