Falling up,
My imagination flies to the stars.
Past the dark sky, past the full moon,
Past sparkling stars, past unexplored galaxies,
Past sudden black holes, past silently gliding satellites,
Past shooting stars streaking across my path.
Comfort is the black dark night.
Comfort is the bright full moon.
Comfort is the sparkling stars in random formation.
Disappearing in the cosmos,
With the universe unfolding.
With the engulfing arms of darkness wrapped around my sorrowful shoulders,
I rest, in the dark night, comforted in my grief.