I’ve had my share of dreams and goals
throughout this skyward climb—
have hustled, slaved, and sold my soul
at least five thousand times—

all rocket fuel injection founts,
plans realized or not;
ascension parted clouds of doubt
for me, the astronaut.

I soared past childhood fantasy,
explored familial moons,
then looped a distant star or three—
my focus all-consumed—

in search of true enlightenment
to sate the blackest hole;
event horizon’s discontent
demanded full control—

devouring each new career,
each studied course with verve;
I never dared to interfere,
rode stardust’s shimmer surf

until my suit was frayed and dull,
my helmet webbed and chipped;
the time had come: a glowing hull
endured re-entry’s trip.

Adventures through the universe,
though shaping, took a toll;
when fragile bones touched down on Earth,
they garnered strength from scrolls—

the very scrolls I’d long outrun,
entranced by distant skies,
so sure of fate beyond the sun—
a poet in disguise.