To net the light before it escapes
our horizon, stretching
in the expanse between us; stars
migrating like geese.
To learn the language of distance,
pull the furthest past into focus
like a new-born child her mother’s face.
To unlearn the boundaries of skin,
to know how mass and energy
are twins, that all matter
knows light’s touch in its seed;
that light, knowing
nothing of time, is the ruler
we use to measure it by.
To unravel our limits, navigate
liminal space like ancient ocean explorers,
galaxies our candles, guides,
sails stitched by light.