It stinks in here.\nThe gravel is wet with algae and crude oil washed up from a crashed tanker long ago.\nUp on the cliff above, a factory burns bright, huffing great fumes into the night, blotting out the stars.\nFrom a distant beach house down the coast, a man surveys this proudly, counting [[stacks of hundred dollar bills|stacks]].\n\nSurely, he thinks to himself, I am a pinnacle of success. The world has provided to me all the [[validation]] I will ever need.
I wish to soar above the [[stratosphere]] and see the [[stars]],\nTo shoot across the sky beyond the [[crater dust of Mars|dust]].
Blue and blinding and sleek and shining and hitting air\nand dragging through the atmosphere and burning up\ntiles peeling off and melting\n\nI am a meteor,\nI am brilliant,\nI am dying.
I gaze upon the firmament in silent, holy awe\nThe beauty of those far-away and elevated globes\nAnd once, one twinkled at me and I thought he saw\nHow much I longed to be with them, free from my [[stinking coves|coves]]
Starfall
Moving, crashing, soaring, smashing,\nParachute ripped apart,\nI fall to the rust-rock ground\n\nPlumes of dust surround me as I settle down\n\nI believed that I could find it here,\nI came across the stars\n\nBut everything is [[dead]] here\nI am cold, alone on Mars.
A Poem by [[Eliot Lash|http://www.eliotlash.com/]]
Am I whole?\nAm I good?\n\nWhat was I even trying to accomplish?\nWas it right?\n\nDid I change the world, even a little?\n\nWhen I am [[dead]], will I be forgotten?
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