22 yards to freedom

Look up to the shooting star,
Can you see the velvet sky,
22 yards to freedom,
But seems so mighty high.

My engine’s gone,
All fuel burnt up,
Seems like am gonna die,
Life’s hanging up there,
22yards too high,

22yards is all I need,
“escape velocity” they say.
To escape earth’s mighty pull,
Escape night and day.

Kept going round in circles,
Now death looms straight ahead.
Laughing, mocking, sneering…..
“dear me you are gonna be dead”.

Burn like amber hot and vile,
Get strewn across the sky.
End up as cold and dust,
As a twinkle in someone’s eye.

Or gear up my dear boy!
You need another twenty two,
22 yards to freedom,
To beauty unseen but true.

Visions of past life now surrounded me,
Hitherto engulfed in dread.
Dancing out of the inner eye,
In a lone tear that I shed.

At this high altitude,
What is the scale of my woe.
Kept going high, up and high,
Still 22 yards too low.