Rough Draft of Aetherlogue
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Deep in interstellar hyperspace, where the stars like pale ghosts glow,
Inter Stellar Ship Consilience flies faster than light can go.
Drive pods shimmer, twisting space, warping out of true
aetherial fabric whose quick rebound glows Cherenkov blue.
In spite of superluminal speed, the starship seems to float,
apparently unmoving because the stars are so remote.
A strange band circumferes the sky, a ragged fog of light.
'Tis but the Galaxy seen from within that splits in twain the night
Deeply cold and empty is the Galaxy's endless night,
in which Humanity's pretensions are quickly put to flight.
Confronting this, the human mind, like a frightened child, cries.
Perhaps bereaved and grieving; for here all vanity dies.
And yet there is no need to fear. You will not be destroyed.
Empty your mind, open your soul, and listen to the Void.
No sound can break the silence here, yet deep within our souls
the echo of a hymn resounds, through our minds the echo rolls.
In the galactic silence the voice of God is heard,
communicating clearly, though it speaks not a single word.
It sends no message unto us, no esoteric creed;
for the reassurance that It exists is all we truly need.
Gaze quietly into the cold dark and feel the deep forlorn,
of something that you should have gained but lost when you were born.
What must we make of this spiritual ache, this faint but insistent yearning?
What is missing from our lives? What lesson should we be learning?
There is no lesson, no truth to be had. It's only aetherial love.
The need is its own fulfilment, the self-renewal thereof.
But, oh, the need does resonate throughout the human mind.
It keeps us searching throughout all space for whatever we might find.
And now our drivefield shifts its hue, from blue to pink and gold,
as we approach another star. Our ship's coming in from the cold.
Ahead floats Beta Lycanthropi, about which we have no information,
centered in the astrogator's crosshairs, our starship's destination.
Breakout! Emergence into normal space. Our eyes are hurt by the glare.
It's up to sensitive instruments to find the treasure there.
Success! We've found a genuine prize, a rarity in blue and white,
the finest that could ever come into a startrekker's sight.
Quiescent have the drives become. Space stays straight and true.
The only warp is gravity's pull, its source our ship falls unto.
Orbital speed belays the fall and swings the ship around
the width of the Earth-like planet that we startrekkers have found.
Strange new worlds we will seek out, new life and new minds to explore,
to boldly go, as we proclaim, where no one has gone before.
No matter how joyously we explore the planets of this foreign star,
a call more felt than heard continues to beckon to us from afar.
In these material bodies the Galaxy we will roam,
refining our minds with knowledge until
death comes to take us home.
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