Space I.

Dark and luminous.

Largely unknown and unknowable.

The three-year-old traveled to the moon every day.
                       The sixty-eight-year-old still yearns to go.

Homo sapiens have lived in space for a combined 77 years. Many more if you include the countless imaginary journeys of the earth-bound.

Our little blue planet earth hangs in space, oblivious to arbitrary geopolitical boundaries or divisions.

Space, represented by three dimensions. Call them x,y, and z, or r, Θ, and Φ, or ahead, left, and up, or even Peter, Paul and Mary. Names don't matter. We inhabit these three dimensions and move forward in time. We can't imagine anything else. 

                                 The universe has a better imagination.


Space II.

Give me space to fear the future as age skulks just beyond the door.
        Give me space to grieve the loss of my sister. 
	Give me space to mourn my loss of self.
	Give me space to think.
		            Do not fill those spaces 
                                         with idle chatter 
                                          or well-intentioned platitudes.  
		           Just sit with me	
			                                     and share space.


Is there space for me at your table?                                 
                                                                            In your life?

In the space of an hour, I could know you better.                 
                                                                           If you'd let me. 



Space III.

I was once the sun to their orbits,
Oozing the energy that sustained their lives,					
Holding them close through the seasons.							
             
                Now, I'm a distant star, indistinct in their night skies.
                Emitting energy into the dark vacuum of space,
		Hoping they still see me.

Space  IV. 

How much space does it take to live? 		 
                                                                         Less than I think.
Stuff expands to fill the space.
                                                                         Entropy sucks.

My bookshelves are overflowing. 
There is space for no more.
                                                                        Much like my brain.

Dontforgettoputspacesbetweenwordstohelpthepoorbeleaguredreaderandremembertobackspacetocorrectthetypos.	

					                        direct  
				               page  			        the eye
		                   on the 					               and
Empty spaces									                   add meaning.
                                                                                                                   silly.
                                Oh                                                                 too
				               stop it                              just
                                                                   you're                         a
                                                                                                                  spaced-out
                                                                                                                  space cadet.
                                                                                                             

                                                              								
Space  V. 

The universe is mostly empty space. Everything we can see or touch is mostly empty space—infinitesimal particles dancing in fields of energy. Even we are mostly empty space; screaming into the void is screaming into the nothing that is everything.

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