If I pledged to speak to you, en oration finale which reached

In time it would take my message to rebound back from the nearest star,

I’d journey waiting for your correspondence in the shushed obsession of static murmurs

Pointing my wings for you, navigating toward the vicinity of your voice

embarking on a tranquil head start, sailing for an Orion divergence

Toward whatever turbulent, pulsating, Centuri star is at the conclusion

I would fly straight into its flames charting a celestial direction

where death would not mute out the communion of those consecrated in oblivion

be it even the rendezvous of speech in vain once I caught up to your voice

which was gasping in just a few fatal breathes then soundless and cold

was the diminutive comfort on the blank map of emptiness, a necessity in the barren

what would be the point to turn back toward home

perching myself on the shoulders of this bountiful legacy

Frozen and separated with the comfort of this message to carry me on forever-

‘Take heart, fear not, for we are.’

— Chris Grasso