I imagine a place filled with light.
A place to which I can travel.
Cold burning star surrounding a planet
or a celestial body as bright as a star
I want to go to where I imagine
the stars fill the deep, blackened sky.
The path of the Milky Way crosses the sky
resplendent in wide swaths of light.
Who named all the stars I can only imagine
Who wanted to journey, to visit, to travel
little did she know of the moon and the stars
and nothing of the dwarves and the planets.
If I could fly, I’d head toward a distant planet
one floating deep in the icy cold sky
far from the celestial bodies I know, the stars
unfamiliar objects spreading their light
along the path of whirling spheres that I travel
filling that starry, fantastical place I imagine.
Surely ancient astrologers looked out and imagined
the Earth moving along, passing other planets.
Those early scientists must have yearned to travel,
to ascend to the heavens, to ride across the sky
on waves of energy and wave lengths of light.
Never could they imagine the sun as a star.
When I close my eyes I imagine a billion stars
burning brightly even greater than I can imagine
Filling the sky with streams of white light.
from heavenly bodies and unknown planets
filling the expanse of darkened, deep sky
urging us Earthbound explorers to travel
Wending back through imaginary galaxies I travel
Passing familiar planets and recognizable stars,
sensing which galaxies belong in my sky
the universe I watch and the one I imagine
Mars, Mercury, and Venus, my known planets
Glowing from the reflection of my sun and its light.
In all the intergalactic travel I imagine
of glorious stars and hidden planets
The sky from my porch is the light I adore.
Previously Published in Poets to Come,
A Poetry Anthology on Walt Whitman's Bicentennial