Vacation

Crickets in the night
By the beach in
Torchlight are overwhelmed
In sound by
Monkeys deep inland

Stars twinkle
They get louder

You’re in space
Flying through the
Black at mach six

The sounds and sensations
Of that beach follow
As you soar with
Constellations

Drums from the seance
Pound

Yet the spitfire sound
Reached out so far

Pressure builds

Your mind collapses
And you’re in the void
You are the stars
You are the constellations

Running forever in the
Endless cold
Where the things stitched
Together are not what
They seam

You are
Seven billion suns
Five billion
Years old

Pieces of everything
A cosmos purity

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