Huddling

wet and cold with pouring rain,
heavenly weather for Mars,
huddling inside is the same
as huddling under the stars

inside a spacesuit, inside a ship
inside a far away base
on an interplanetary trip
not knowing what will be faced

into the unknown step by step
crossing the endless void
expert at what I am adept,
cosmically to be buoyed

by memories of pouring rain
windy, wet and cold
anytime, anywhere feels the same
it never seems to grow old

onwards and outwards while spiraling
away from our liquid home
through the emptiness that we are in,
the plasma through which we roam,

huddling inside all of the way
each second, each minute, each hour
going to where we cannot stay
with Ionically thrusting power...