We climbed through the stars until we arrived at heaven

We are climbing up this
staircase
surrounded by stars.
 Alone in the
  night, I can 
   almost taste the 
    sick sweetness
     of desire on my
      tongue. Here. there's
      nothing but the 
     blinding light of
    eyes and galaxies
   to make me feel
  unwhole.
 We don't know 
where we're
walking, led by 
 the same blind faith
  that keeps us 
   tethered to sanity.
    We could die 
     before we reach
      the moon, but 
      here in the
     infinity, it doesn't 
    seem to matter.
   I heard that you 
  were afraid of the
 universe, of that vast
unwholeness that is easy
to choke on.
 I've feared it too,
  on the nights when 
   all you can see
    are the stars and the
     hotness of your own
      breath.
       It is hard to feel stable
        when confronted by the   
endless.
 Once, years ago,
  I passed by a tree 
   with a baby
    stuck inside.
    I heard its cries, 
   I think,
  or maybe not,
 because I kept 
walking, walking
Months or decades later,
 I saw the baby's 
  face on the front 
   page of the
    newspaper, now 
     grown up.
      Between the tangled 
       leaves and branches,
        the baby had 
         made a home.
        Maybe we too 
       could make a home here,
      in this 
     also-inhospitable 
    environment,
   on this staircase 
  surrounded by 
 stars. Or maybe, 
we could  keep
 walking,
  striding, stepping, stumbling
   up this staircase
    through the stars 
     and past the moon
    until we make it to
   whatever remains
  of heaven.
 I think I wouldn't 
mind an eternity with you.