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I mark'd where, on a little promontory, it stood isolated;
Mark'd how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding,
It launched forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself;
Ever unreeling them- ever tirelessly speeding them.
And you, O my Soul, where you stand,
Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, - seeking the spheres to connect them;
Till the bridge you will need , be formed- till the
ductile anchor
hold;
Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch
somewhere, O my Soul.
-Walt Whitman
My thanks to the team of Skywatch Friday
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