Ken's Poetry

Blue

It is probable there are others out there
journeying on invisible elliptical rails
in the cold black desert.
It is probable they are moving away from us
eternally, inaccessibly diluting
the chance of meeting,
touching in the dark;
that in a particular light year
the red shift will fade,
inertia cease, the stars
come tumbling back again.

Science says there must be other Earths
blue with the blood of water and life,
warmed by violent suns:
but how can we, invisible in this timeline
our nano-lives immeasurable,
reach out into the universal sky?

When this bright oasis dies
who will know,
from what faint radio stain,
that we have come
and we have gone?