Above the clouds,
His face appears,
On a white ball set in blue,
Starlit and surrounded.

Shivering cold,
Teeth chattering,
He desperately waits to warm,
Hands buried in pockets.

Reflective thoughts,
Chase darker times,
Silencing both chills and fears,
Easing his passage on.

Warmed to the edge,
Of earth and space,
He closes his eyes, and smiles,
Then sinks into the abyss.

Behind the lines

There are heavenly bodies and earthly bodies, but the glory of the heavenly is of one kind, and the glory of the earthly is of another. There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars; for star differs from star in glory.

So is it with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable; what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power. (1 Corinthians 15:40-43)