The Astronaut

By in Fiction, Poetry, Writing

The Astronaut

Floating out here, isolation my closest
friend of nothing, the reputation of no one
Not that it matters out here, anyway
Thoughts come in drips and splashes; I
can feel something, some kind of significant
presence, thick in the air

Floating out here, isolation my closest
friend or foe, the floating turquoise and jade sphere, impeding
my precarious emotions like a monster
Floating out here, isolation my closest
friend, I look down and spy you there on that
insignificant ball, spinning lonesome like a star in the night
sky, your thoughts and intents a pinprick on the grand plan

I can’t see the sparkle of whitewash, or hear the
ambience of crickets chirping, or smell
the exotic, cultural nuances of the oriental markets, or taste
the exquisite cuisine at my favourite restaurant
It all seems so superfluous up here, anyway

Spinning out in isolation, my closest friend
and nearest companion the stillness in this pale, colourless cabin
Filled with awe, because I could trace this as the most
defining moment in my life
I’ve heard talk of a God who made the world in my
sojourns back on the surface of that distant place
Never would I have believed He was true till
now, seeing home so small, so fragile, so distant
I can put my finger to my eye and blot
it from ever breathing

Floating out here, isolation my closest
friend, I’m lost in the deepest resonances of thought,
my soul is stilled
Every moment sees me feeling smaller and
smaller, because I know someone sees
and He loves
How He loves
those
little
tiny
people

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