I hang out,
in a more or less familiar vacuum.
For some reason
the universe supports my weight.
Things move around me
and I too oscillate
making small forays at a time
so as not to disturb the space dust
I know there is work to be done.
My time is coming, I cannot miss it
I don’t want to be distracted
by the need to tiptoe slowly
by the trap of thinking too much before
I burn into the atmosphere
alguien va quemar
puede ser yo
re-entering the atmosphere hurts but
how else to find those gems beneath
particles accumulated, frozen dust
the realness of your weight
gravity must act upon you
for you to exert gravitas
Great speed and pressure
the most noble elements survive
strewn to pieces
in bits you are more able
to see and know
of what you are comprised.