I drive home,
and notice that the sky has an inimitable quality,
that I have forgotten.

As I have grown older,
I have been stuck in a perennial loop,
that has existed for years— and is ineradicable.
Through the window, there is a mélange of stars,
scattered through the sky.
They flicker, sequestered from the world--
floating, aimlessly.
At this moment, a languorous air settles,
it is benign, and yet I am left with an air of ambivalence.
I desperately reach out—
gasping—
askance—
my heart beats faster—
my hands tighten into fists.

I can feel the pounding—
the higher I rise,
the worse it gets.
I am brightening—
and I am terrified that this will not be transient.
The stars spin, and as I come closer, they are not as languid
as they look on Earth.
But suddenly it is over,
the light from my skin drains, and collects between my ribs.
In another moment, the light leaves my chest,
and I float safely back to the ground.
In the sky, there is a new blinking light,
that I feel is there—
waiting for me.