If beyond infinity was where I longed to be,
would standing on the richest soil help me reach beyond my fingertips?
Should I hop the clouds and aim for the sun,
hoping it would glisten a silver lining for me to grasp?
Will the silver line cut my fingers as I grapple with the winds?
Or would landing on the moon stage my dream to help ease my longing?
Perhaps my days of hurricane might bring me over the rainbow.
But at the end of it there might be no pot of gold,
for a vacuum could better suck me into the milky way,
to guide me beyond infinity,
where the horizons lay,
at the reach of the great vastness,
far from the soil.