Movement… 
	A clamor of voices.

		1000 headed whirlwind 
		Blown by our own capitalism.

The space between a moment… 

	The deafening sound of snow falling 
	In the woods.

		I'm more like the pause
		Between notes

Pushing onward, 

I orbit the outer layers of the soul
An adventurer wandering in a fragile vehicle.

	There is no turning back now.

The place where I'm from 
Has become cold. 
Unfamiliar.

I make the sojourn
To save the human race.
	To save them from themselves.

		To save them from me.

It is lonely out here
	By myself.

But my time had come on land,
And I was called 
By the pull of a distant body
Much more massive than I.

	Such is the gravity of evolution.

An astralnaut I shall turn to be…
© 2002 Kevin Clous
SCHIZOPHRENIC
KEVIN CLOUS
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