Having left her blue shores,

The planet’s fading glory is

Little more than a point of life, of light

Seen over the barren horizon,

Earthrise on a clear morn’

A pale blue and green speck


In space, but not in time,


In a moment,

Held there by sheer force of will –

As if by wishing,

And wanting it badly enough,

I could be



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A poet driven by the quill, a dreamer of impossible dreams, a lover of that which the world has deemed unlovable. We're all stories in the end. This is mine.

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