Ballet

A million stars- at least, for I have stopped counting- have wrapped themselves around us. The machinery doesn't work and I don't know where we are now.

Where is the nearest galaxy? Where is the nearest home? I don't know, I don't know, and I'm trying to find my gravity and everything's floating around.

Close my eyes. A million stars flood into view, frazzling out when fed light. Paradoxical - stars that refuse to shine and choose to smother themselves out like dying cigarette buds.

I'm sitting here but my head feels like it's in space- like I'm so high up in the clouds I'm not even within our atmosphere. I can feel the stars watching me and the ballet in space continues, continues, a pas de deux of silence and floating memory, here yet not here, near but far, hiding amongst millions of stars.