If I am both a pilot light and the Dyson Sphere cradling, and drawing it down, I can extract
the most of my sun before its dying plants parsecs with my elements.
The torch inside the body makes it infrared, until it doesn’t.
My microbiome and their ecosystem make each other. This orbital body is theirs to speed through lifespans on.
In space no one can right you out of a tumble, so I am both my accoutrements and the actinic twinkle
they make, boy in the solar sail kilt floundering, silent and cooling, forevermore.
© Tolu Oloruntoba