All my days

I stand in the street and watch children playing space in urban construction. They blast themselves up from debris and broken stones with shout and climb. Secured to the crew, one of the crew, I leave humped and crawling thoughts behind and rocket over ''No Trespass'' signs to galaxies that have no count in years. Outward bound, the momentum of will and desire bears us to the immeasurable beyond. My bag of groceries eases. I am pulled to distances that won't let go their truth, that measure my present age not by calendar time but by the gain of all my days adding up to young. Snow crystals gleam and vanish. Fires burn out, burst new. But our pursuit of a star is constant. As it flies from us, we fly toward it. We hold fast to vision and hope, as sure of getting there as being here, powered out of the rubble we are in on great updrafts of light.

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