these are the laws of physics
immutable as those of Medes & Persians:

you, frailness of flesh & skin
wrapped in only blueprints & hope
to plunge through furnace of plasma
burning, blasted, luminous beyond mach-molten:
torn molecules, pink & purple,
cremating you as sati to the sky.

if all goes well, you shall fly
as a butterfly bolted to a bullet.
if not, your only grave shall be
Schlieren lines across a shocked sky.

to strangers,
your death shall be as beautiful as fireworks.
but to those who knew you:
grief.

they vanished
became sky:
a rain of metal tears
upon the land.

breaking,
that contrail became cenotaph:
a wreath we laid
on our voyage to worlds.