Lying inside of a crater on the moon, I stare up into the vast beauty of the star dusted galaxy and breathe steadier than I ever have. It’s weird without a body, you might think it would feel liberating but you still have sensation so it is difficult to trust what is happening. You still crave the feeling of being touched, of being boundaried, pressed, held against something else. I only know I am lying down because my vision is looking up. This is a dream I have often and sometimes I wish I’d never wake up.
But morning comes as it always does, dissolving itself into me as darkness sifts almost imperceptibly to light. If I do not take the hand of the early morning darkness and give myself to it before it evaporates, the daylight becomes far too much to bear.
I begin to write a poem about…
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