The worst is over,
Depending on who you ask.
This time, we are alone,
Not by command,
But because all we’ve ever desired
Is a second of our own,
To be still & seeing,
Remote but non-distant,
Like a moon orbiting
The globe it’s most fond of.
Now that the best has begun,
Depending on who you ask,
We will be no worm,
Shrinking from all that shines.
Our future is a sea
Flooded with sun,
Our souls, so solar & soldiering.
There is a cut of that burning in us all.
Who are we, if not
What we make of the dark.