The Loneliest Man

how quiet it must have been for you, michael collins... how calm it must have seemed for you, michael collins... how tranquil you must have felt up there alone with no one on the radio, except for you, michael collins... doing something no one had done with no one around to see because you were in a place no one had been with no way to share what you saw because even radios fail that far away from home. but not you, michael collins... how dark was it in there with not even the sun to guide your way? how still was the air with not even the wind to make a sound? how many times did you ask yourself, michael collins, if you would ever see home again? how many times did you think to yourself, michael collins, that you might not ever again see the faces you remember? on that clearest night, did the stars not seem brighter than before? upon coming into the sun again, did you, michael collins, not feel lighter than before? it must have been strangely startling to have been startled by that strange crackle coming from the radio. for another human voice to sound so foreign yours must have been a lie. how did it feel leaving that void, michael collins, and crashing back into existence? how soon did it feel, to you, michael collins, that your feet were back on the ground? i imagine you must miss that silence. ... i imagine you must from time to time walk far far away and look at the stars. i would ask you one question if i could, michael collin, on the clearest night when you look up into that darkness have the stars ever been brighter than before?