My Frame Of Reference Exceeds The Picture It Frames

I want them to launch me towards the sun

Put me in a coffee cup, or a tin drum

It matters only where I’m going,

and not where I’m from.

On the sun, all elements turn vapor

My ego will burn up before I get my life down on paper

but my soul will be satisfied, all-knowing;

Baptismal fire, emancipator.

My second coming will be on Mars

I’ll bring my friends, we’ll all be stars

living fast, gasseus, flowing

in our meta-celestial cars.

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