Were i

to reach for the stars

my pants would fall down.

Today requires earthly attentions.

Keeping up trousers may be 

the ultimate action

while loftier desires

could knock me, particle by particle,

straight out of orbit.

Cupping a star in two small, mortal hands

must wait

until palms can remain steady

holding an infinitude of concentrated light.

Honoring

means discerning–

Here, fantasy. Here, reality.

With that slice we both

possess

the fullness of flourishing space.

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