What is this world
But a vast expanse of matter,
All the size of a speck of dust?
To see our place in the universe, our lives flickering like
Seven-watt bulbs in the expanse of spacetime,
You need to escape narrow-mindedness and simply imagine
All that cannot be seen, all there is that is yet to remain discovered, all that remains cloaked in the shadow of oblivion.

I think about this now
As the long grass tickles my feet
And the heavens arc over me in a graceful leap,
A carefree blue that hides from us
The colorless void of space.

Of all places, it’s easiest here
To think about what exists beyond
Our houses and cities and imaginary borders.
Here, where the plains stretch farther than the eye can see
And but a few modest dwellings dot the golden horizon,
And you can hear nothing
But the whisper of grass rustling softly
And the ever-existing sweep of the wind.
The subconscious mind runs free.

Except
When the world calls back to you,
Pulling you back from the realms of the imagination
Where you glide freely, almost escaping the atmosphere, almost discovering what happens
When you become free of earth’s gravity
And are pulled back by nothing.

And every time this happens,
The world will reel you in again,
Like a kite flown a bit too high on a breezy summer day.
This was one of those times
When I heard human voices calling to me,
Bringing me back
To the ground.