Child of the Galaxy

The other night I had a dream. I saw myself as a ten-year-old by, as I was after a summer in Alaska, toned by the wild and only a pair of cutoffs, sitting cross-legged on the outside wing of a starship. He is unafraid of the void or the heat of suns, the galaxy is his home, the place that he swims. Before him was a black hole, shrouded with contrails of blue light. He was anxious, for soon he would go through it, but excited for what was on the other side. And this was the music playing (Nature Boy).