Cursed by Lack of Gravity

One of my translations of my Finnish originals.

A void echoes in me.
Vast, directionless.
My star charts of strange orbits
cannot guide me here.
The inertia too monumental.
In my ears, only the murmur of my own heartbeats
consumed to a slower tempo by the lack of oxygen.
The last thought before fading altogether:

The need for air, resistance, friction.
For connection.