Day 7
First view,
Iconic view of you,
Blue Earth Rising
Out of a void of man’s unknowing.
Who would know what lay below,
From up above those graceful, swirling, dancing spirals
Like salty lipped sailors dancing jigs and singing
Placid sea shanties in hollow voices,
Mourning women left at home,
With guitars wrapped in aged leather
Sails down, fluttering,
The slap of waves on hull,
Under sunset skies
They care not for an hour, a minute,
Or an increment of fossil fuel achievements
Or manned insects with hammers and wires
Boots, and steel,
Hard hats braced for the advancement of times,
Or space-aged, oil-spewing black
Blood in spurts,
Her energy depleted
In wasteland dumps,
Draining deep pockets of ancient sunlight,
Drilling irreversibly, driving further, faster
Mechanically, methodically without question
To man this rocket up to space to take that shot
Of you,
No,
No,
They care only
When all the sky was blue
And the ocean source
Of life to all,
Soft, pastel, vibrant
A Mother rocking children
In lullabies of peaceful rhythms
In timeless space,
In the paradox of seeing you
Face to face.
April 7, 2014
