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Deep in interstellar hyperspace the stars glow pale as ghosts
and, feigning flight faster than light, our lonely starship coasts.
Drive pods shimmer, twisting space, warping out of true
the ętherial fabric whose quick rebound glimmers Cherenkov blue.
In spite of superluminal speed, the starship seems to float,
apparently not moving at all, the stars being so remote.
The Galaxy shines, a luminous fog, all the colors of the rainbow and more,
as we travel toward an alien sun, toward strange new worlds to explore.
But it's not the destination that compels us, not the end toward which we reach.
It's the voyaging itself that we crave, for the Void has secrets to teach.
It's the going and not the arriving that satisfies our need,
but only after we come to it, from worldly concerns been freed.
Deeply cold and empty is the Galaxy's endless night,
in which Humanity's pretenses are quickly put to flight.
Confronting this, the human mind, like a frightened child, cries;
perhaps bereaved and grieving, for here all vanity dies.
Across the endless vacuum, lightyears wide, we have ranged,
listening for ętherial whispers of that from which we are estranged.
And in that awful Silence we feel a deep forlorn,
the sense of something we should have gained but lost when we were born.
An inexpressible yearning, much more felt than heard,
is a quiet voice that speaks to us, though it utters not a word.
(The voiceless echo of the Other resounds deep within my soul
and I know that if I were to touch it, the touching would make me whole.)
No sound can break the silence here, yet deep within our souls
the echo of a hymn resounds, through our minds the echo rolls.
It sends no message to us, no esoteric creed;
for the reassurance that It exists is all we truly need.
But if that tantalizing Other should touch my lonely soul,
I know beyond a doubt that the touching would make me whole.
There is no lesson, no truth to be had. It's only ętherial love.
The need is its own fulfilment, the self-renewal thereof.
And so we trek among the stars in hyperdriven flight.
Seeking the touch of the untouchable, we wander the eternal night.
Past vast luminous nebulae, the Galaxy we roam,
pursuing unreachable destiny 'til Death comes to take us home.
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