The stars
Tiny pin-pricks of light
From afar
Are suddenly
Giant balls of gas
Up close.
No longer the delicate dots
Forming dainty constellations,
But large and dangerous;
Threatening.
Although I am safe within the quilts
And sheets of my bed,
My dreaming mind doesn't fathom;
Yet.
I dodge The fiery
Stars
And soar;
Gliding through the dark,
Full space
Absorbing the nothingness
And the importance
Of it all.
No one,
Nothing,
Everything.
My fingers cut through the
Emty space
As if I were underwater.
Somersaults and cartwheels
Occupy my time
As well as thoughts in my mind
And butterflies in my stomach.
