The time had come.
Sleep had abandoned John Vilkas
Long before the journey began,
Hovering at the edge of consciousness
Like a distant planet
He could no longer reach.
But now,
Strapped within the capsule,
Beneath the cold glow of instruments,
He felt the old life loosening its grip.
A lifetime of illness.
A lifetime of worry.
A lifetime beneath the weight
Of a world that had forgotten
How to be kind and decent.
All of it would soon remain below.
