Maybe you were never meant to

comprehend galaxies,

or galaxies never let you in.

Call it self-defense,

a preservation mechanism.

Or: a Godless humanism.

Or: a pointless rumination.

Fly to the moon

in your deck for years

just to learn the smoke signal

wasn’t for you.

So why did we come all this way

if none of it was true?

But then again geese look at cygnets

and know they’re ugly, too.

There was no counting on time

or telepathy,

and no love lives in sympathy.

We were thinking (it turns out)

about totally different things.

Somewhere a thread to me;

somewhere cygnet wings.