etched on a wall, deep on Deck 550, on the center tube of the ship is a poem.
mostly low-key
[ I wrote it. All Rights Reserved. ]
Here I sit,
at a computer keyboard,
typing away.
Sitting and thinking,
as soft low-key music,
plays in the background.
I’m over a half-century old,
I’ve seen the end of Segregation,
the early part of television,
the journeys into outer space,
the landings on the Earth’s Moon.
Four small satellites journey on and outward,
Voyager 1 and 2,
Pioneer 10 and 11.
Small distant machines,
transmitting small radio signals,
out into the nothingness.
But I sit here,
at my computer,
typing away.
In my mind’s eye,
I dream a dream of change,
and hope.
But.
Thats a long pause after the ‘But’ there.
I see out the corner of my eye,
a bit of neon sign flicker,
as it lights up in the Deep Dark.
Its in the shape of a galaxy.
And a few shooting stars,
nebulae glowing dimly over there.
A large ferris wheel,
maybe its a distant galaxy,
glowing yonder.
Small neon sided cars,
they could be solar systems,
I get aboard one.
it moves gently about the park,
no sparks burst forth from it,
as it glides,
upon a cloud,
of blue neon.
Then I blink,
and its just a computer screen,
once more.
Softly, the low-key music,
plays in the background.