Ants, unlimited and active,
Are shooting stars
On a moonless night
Darting swiftly across the vast expanse
Without end or rest.
Eagles, attacked by blue jays,
Shake them by ascending
Thermal, hypoxic air
Between this spinning rock
And infinite dark.
I am the ant,
Digging and hauling
Building and seeking
Unaware of my cosmic counterpart.
I am the eagle,
At lower altitudes
Plagued by pecking and scratching
Transmitted through my psyche.
To know my stardust
And to meet it there —
Will deliver me from these daggers
I grasp in fearful hands.











