I sought the sun, the light, the life, but space is cold and dark. Advance upon advance, and never forward, never nearer; always, somewhere between the vision and the act, the meaning fades. Illusions, again and again, phantoms of forgotten spheres, of influences which have died. Who am I in the vacuum?
I see beauty. Perhaps that is enough. I open my eyes and gaze at the twinkling stars which are always too far to reach. As far away upon earth’s surface as way up here. Though I have traveled farther than any man, I am no closer.
And yet, are we not all, high and low, within their twinkling light? If they be guardians of our tale, the markers of times and seasons, the pattern of the story writ large for all, then perhaps, unsatisfied contentment, I shall be happy forever just to long.
My longing has brought me high. The night is ending, the dawn breaks, and I am terrified.
Tale Told 