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Little Astronaut


Over clouds on a moonlit night, a flock of paper birds take flight.
The artwork is provided by my friend Shellie Summers


The stars are ready

The night is clear

Through eons of Nyx

They quickly appear

All crowd to witness 

The flight of paper things

____


Paper wings in moonlit skies


How Boldly

They soar over heaven

Wings reflected beneath them.

So Lonely

The space between stars

so few take the leap

Diving into the night

Chasing paper dreams


Woefully
Reaching through the stars 

yet never making it


However

This is the way some think
Thus they drown in heaven

never reaching the stars


I like to describe depression as a series of conversations, sweet-talking me towards my own demise.
 
The paper wings represent a hope that is frail and mortal. A mortal hope will die a mortal death; it is the way of mortal things. Immortal things never die, and thus hope in immortal things becomes immortal.

Diving into the night, seduced by Shinigami. At times placing hope in a destination, only death seems to know the way towards.

Beneath the depths of its power and with a soft voice, it reveals the way to heaven, "Breathe deeply." 

Depression is not a good friend; it lies more than it speaks the truth. Sometimes I wonder, "Who is Depression? Is he the bastard son of Hope? Am I afflicted with a hope disorder?" and the silence keeps me guessing. I have theories for days, but they are just theories. 

Anyhow, thanks for reading whatever this is. Have a good day, y'all.
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