Ętherlogue II


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Deep in interstellar hyperspace, facing cold endless night,

our hyperdriven starship feigns flying faster than light.

 

Drive pods shimmer, in halos enveloped of opalescent blue,

confusing space and time, warping them out of true.

 

The Universe rushes past us, yet everything is still

and quiet in a void that no sound could hope to fill.

 

And in that awful Silence we feel a deep forlorn,

the sense of something we should have gained but lost when we were born.

 

We've always had this restlessness, this desire to seek and find.

But we know that the loss that we feel is merely a product of the mind.

 

That inexpressible yearning, much more felt than heard,

is a quiet voice that speaks to us, though it utters not a word.

 

It draws us ever onward, seeking the Presence that's just not there;

Regaining what we never had, getting back to where we never were.

 

Ever striving to exceed ourselves, to become what we were not.

Into the grand adventure we have gone and cast our lot.

 

So past vast luminous nebulae, from star to star we roam,

enriching our souls with memories until Death comes to take us home.

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