Look onward past the silhouette of death
I will not flinch when midnight strikes my heart
and calls upon my soul to find a home
in empty vessels of the galaxy.
Perhaps I'll find some warmth upon the moon
In craters kept so clean they sparkle wide
A field mouse buried once in cliffside walls
is now a soul so pure it needn't hide.
My heart was once a solid piece of me,
Now dead, it rots while buried brown and still.
But spirit flies from anyone with eyes
to abandon the anchor and the shell.
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