Shoot me to the sky
with the moon and the feeling
that soon
the Utopian doom you expect me to reach
will cease to teach me
to preach about a world
where we could love instead of fight,
where there would be no special right to be fighting over,
a disclosure so far-fetched
that it might be best to keep it to
myself: a helpless, hopeful creature
with the Universe as her teacher,
wandering through the sky with the moon in her eyes,
and thinking of Utopia as time flies by.