Rewrite of an earlier poem.
When I was small, you showed the stars --
glittering eyelets against night's endless black sheet.
It was then that I wondered what lied beyond
what it would it would be like to be there, really there --
in school they showed us pictures of comets
and stars but I knew
it would be nothing like the real thing.
My life's not too exciting here -
so why not put me on a rocket, 'til I burst through the exosphere?
I may not be the first to see the moon in all it's splendor
but that does not matter.
Take me to where all is black, all is silent;
beautiful.
take me to where I my fly like a bird
on a rocket, without gravity
where my life is in danger at every moment
but the beauty will be worth it.
