Hold your breath,
This is the part where the pressure in the airlock drops,
And if you don't time it just right...
Your heart might just stop.
It's the vacuum that wants you back,
The crushing groans of the lack,
And the night, and the nothing,
That stretches time between those urgent worlds of fire.
Take the time to mourn for those fresh breaths,
Yearn for full lungs again,
To consume without thinking,
Those moments taste like freedom,
I'm starting to forget them.
The outside is below freezing,
And the panic at the vastness,
Has my focus captive,
Just enough to get through it,
To not need it, to not want it,
To eat the sun like the bodhi trees do.