Death is the ultimate gravity.
Astronauts understand this, and live forever,
but weep as they work, knowing they can never go home again.
What friend, what doctor,
can comfort the deathless in their solitary endlessness?
What aspect of research,
what nourishing knowledge
could ever make their exile bearable?
Look! In the sky!
Woman, you cannot touch them; there is nothing so remote as a departing spouse,
sure of everything and saying so,
all the while
fearing the fire of re-entry
and the facing of wives and waves which once welcomed, and now destroy.
for get listed with grapeling at real toads.