In the land of milk and honey,
you were a burning bush
which did not speak

Where the wildest things roamed,
you failed to find satisfaction
in the wriggling dark of mystery

As the fate of our species
was being sold in advance,
you were embracing intellectual gold

Where most meet ends, forgetting
all concern of what they leave,
you asked death to watch us in awe

Upon the brink of infinity's fall,
you gave your fellow nomads
the notion of flowers before farewell

Where the mind fell prisoner
to its own untested musings,
you romanced the shackles away

At the limits of our shared understanding,
you speculated with the honesty
of someone humbled by uncertainty

Where curiosity was met with fear,
and concern met with hostility,
your voice was a dulcet salve

In the midst of overwhelming
ignorance, content with itself,
you made the best in us immortal

Where ever the day takes us,
and to where the night calls us,
you will not soon be forgotten

And at the precipice of human dreaming,
you may yet prove to be
our hero of the cosmos

Poetry from The Astrals by Shane Windham
E-book and paperback now on Amazon.com

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