Galaxies on her lips

And stars across her eyes
Fuel spent from starships exhale from her lungs

Propelling her forwards backwards sideways and upward thisways thatways

Inways outways and downways

Anyway is fine because that is where she is meant to be
Downways may be up and upways may be down but there’s galaxies

Three

Hundred

And

Sixty

Degrees

Around

Us.
You think you’re in a spot?

That spot is meant to be
Change what you can and learn to accept what you can’t

This time we have on the clock is a gift and you will treat it as such.
There’s asteroids and collisions in you.

There’s craters and mountains,

Turmoil of rolling waters

Vast, expanding valleys of green and brown.
Brown is pretty

And so is a black hole.

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