Rushing to a memory,
Sinking in a daydream puddle
By the screams of streaking
Burning in the dark.
Not holding on to what I’ve got
Just long enough to form a thought
Or piece together fragments
Of this view.
At the end of this winding tunnel
Bands and knots of light and ice, and fire zipping past.
See my arm reach out before me,
Taking hold of you and all,
But the hair upon my skin
Is greying, faster than we move
My bony, shaking hand against
Your wrinkled, withering face.
This is the time I spent to get to you.
Lightyears passing gladly.
Yes, and happily
We will too.