tethered to the earth

The sheer force necessary

to set foot 

on the existential moon 

of your circumscribed imagination

requires you to burn

enough egoic fuel 

to last half a lifetime.

Looking back at that spherical womb

that held you, 

and had no choice  

but to let you go,

you almost float

above the surface 

of your grand arrival.


Once on land,

however,

there is not

a way to capture

the beautiful solidity

of this sandy ground,

nor a way to do justice 

to the grand array

before your eyes 

and present it, 

gift like,

to those you left behind.


The solitude of your success

grows tiresome 

almost as quickly 

as your vigorous ascent. 

Paradoxically crestfallen 

at the marriage of intention and action,

you slowly make your way

back to the only container

capable of taking you,

dust to dust,

on that necessary

downward journey

where the atmosphere 

burns every 

last 

thing

away.

Kissing the ground

that you spent so long

trying to escape,

it seems fitting 

that the significance 

of your greatest accomplishment,

up to this point,

is now as subject to dispute 

as Armstrong's first small step.


Tethered to the earth

in the body,

no longer weighed down

by the dense gravity 

of self importance,

nor by the opinions of others,

you are finally free 

to undertake a journey

of a wholly different disposition, 

the interstellar exploration of the soul,

the final integrative frontier.

Krister White