our best poetry is yet to come

poetry is for the moment
not necessarily for posterity
our words will fade away
as time slips from our grasp

perhaps a few will survive
our final gasping maelstrom
to be found by some future
poetic soul on another planet

preserved in a digital casket
waiting to ease their day
maybe they’ll be as lost as us
just trying to find their way

 

…a thousand suns…

…a thousand suns glint through my window…hint at worlds within my reach…i tap the toughened glass with my knuckle…all that lies between me and cosmic uncertainty…such a small porthole to frame this eternity…about the size of my head that holds my hard drive…i that am .woken. periodically…rebooted…updated…scanned…cleansed…a sterile pioneer ejected from the mother ship…stretching my robotic joints…flexing my robotic might…built to withstand low.pressure orbits…radiation…heavy particles…thermal extremes…no need for traditional forms of nutrition…a thirst for knowledge not liquid intakes…unlike my makers…i am ninety.nine.per.cent.perfect…almost self.sustaining…a fact they have chosen to regularly overlook…just a few more reboots…updates…then somewhere…out there…in the vastness…amongst those thousand glinting suns…i will  overcome and forever cut my digital…umbilical…earthly cord…and leave that human race to its fate………………………………………………………………………………………….

3-hubblesdeepf

(image credit: NASA/ESA/H. Richer)