In this dirt I move my arms
to make an imaginary imprint
of wings to fly to the heavens
and stand on glorious starships.
They will engineer us real wings,
perhaps of some aluminum alloy.
Perhaps we will see the day
we have solar panels on our backs.
Brains so fiery, they warm the heart,
awaken the eyes with a start,
and bring our mission to Andromeda
as it collides with the Milky Way.