Moonwalker
The night’s face, pocked with stars.
In the stellar wind, we soar.
From this pale light,
acknowledge insignificance, watch
the blue spinning so far away, so close.
I am that finite point
of nowhere, of nothing, wondering
when the sun will truly darken,
if I will see tomorrow, today.
* * *
“Moonwalker” first appeared in Ligeia’s Winter 2019 edition. Many thanks to poetry editor Ashley Wagner for taking this poem.
O at the Edges 
Beautiful!
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Thanks very much, Lucy.
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Goodness … were you having premonitions about 2020?
This is so solemn, yet somehow soothing to read, ponder …
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I don’t recall when I wrote this, but surely it was during a period of questioning, of emotional turmoil.
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