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Another poem from the book:
An Even Trade
Death it seems is an even trade
for the privilege to be born
into this life, this incredible life
in this wondrous universe
To have the honor of looking up
at the billions of night sky stars
as though they were twinkling just for me
and perhaps, perhaps they are
They say we are made of star stuff
and to star stuff one day I’ll return
to be flung again by supernova
into vast and empty space
Given time I’ll once more become
alive and gazing out
staring up at billions of stars
knees weak and struck with awe
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