How far I've come: I can see that now from my vantage point:
The distances spread out like the configuration of the planets
And so very neatly arranged beneath me.
There, far away
Fair, cold Pluto--blue embodiment of my own cold guilt
And of the distance I wish it to remain: light reflecting
And traveling back to me an eon later.
How I wish it to go.
I am not desirous of its return, and preferring the source to the imitation
Turn my back to it. In an instant, it is gone.

And what of the journey I have made, my life like a galaxy
Filled with darkness and with stars; of how I had reached the limit
And skirted the edge, confronting the abyss, turning from it
A fraction too soon to fall completely, realizing my error
And turning back towards the light?

This is the thing not to be forgotten, a constant reminder
That days must flow seamlessly together and not be separated
Into individual guilts, each moving orderly like the planets
And confirming that all is well in the heavens,
That it is well with my soul.