Elegy for Argo City

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Beyond a fetch lightyears wide, in interstellar space,

floats a tiny remnant of a good and decent race.


In the frigid black of empty space, in a red sunís warming light

the grave of a mighty people floats in quiet eternal night.


Once a great world existed here and spread its rich lands wide;

a place for civilization to grow and people to reside.


What a world it might have been, a civilization unbroken.

Envision the people who might have been; hear their words unspoken.


But catastrophe smote this place and destroyed the mighty world.

The land broke into pieces that into space were hurled.


Only Argo City survived, under its airtight dome,

after the explosive destruction of its planetary home.


The people repaired their city and among themselves they said,

"Let the Gods come and kill us themselves if they truly want us dead."


Building anew their power, in cosmic solitude they float,

the stellar campfires of other worlds glitter coldly remote.


They made the green death help them avoid the final night.

Vast arrays of photocells transformed its ghastly light.


With rockets they harvested comets and asteroids far away,

to gain the material they needed to live another day.


For a generation and half they strove to make their power grow,

then the cold mechanics of cruel fate struck them a fatal blow.


Lonely robots stand eternal vigil on their green-shining asteroid,

ensuring that the city they guard shall never be destroyed.


What would they have accomplished? What wonders would they have erected?

Might they have eventually become Humanity perfected?


Through one determined adolescent girl the cityís culture has survived

to bless an alien world on the day that she arrived.


Now a fairychild of a godlike race dances on the sky.

Through her and her progeny, Argo City will never die.


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