And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.

Forward into the unknown,
surviving another construct of man,
under the stars I wander,
on a world we once owned,
and a world we once belonged.