I lingered on a city street By a church growing obsolete; Beyond, towards Cosmic Freedom pointed Its stony tower, in time and space disjointed. I followed it into the morning sky And felt welling up a joyous cry: There in the clear and crystal azure blue, Diaphanous, was the unearthly, soothing moon; While a jet, glimmering, silvery bright, Silently glided on a trail of white Up I reached past Church and God's estranged child And stretched between God and the moonish wild. In the deep still and soundless cold Where no fire burns and no tales told: In the endless craters and puffy dust Where no Eden bloomed to fall to lust: In the airless void like an unspeaking sage Where a moment's change extends for an age: On the eternally sterile pall Where no rain will ever fall, No rainbow ever call: Under unblinking stars in impenetrable nights Where Endless Space caresses the motionless heights: I stood in Luna's silence so deep That a scream in the ear caused not a peep, Encased in metal and plastic so thin To be between hostile clime and skin. From crater to rock I bounded, My earthy weight confounded; Leap by leap I raced to the horizon far, Overseen by each ice cold star: A twinkling in the bare moonscape, A sudden, alien, sleek shape Grew larger as I neared; Up before me it's orb reared: A precise and calculated technowomb Teaming with immigrant Life abloom. Encapsulated in its clear, invisible, skin, Interface between the Still and the living din, We worked and moved and played And had our being each passing day In geometric apartments and cubes, Through circular alleys and tubes, Among experiments and laboratories, Before new frontiers and observatories, Managed and scheduled for integration Into the computerized and maintained regulation. Yet, serendipitously, in a corner alone, Obscure, unplanned, there had grown A green, tall pepper, Unsanitary as a leper, Sprouting from some contamination, Its fruit ineffably beautiful in configuration; Growing against our hands and minds With awesome graces and worldly kinds. Through the clear, invisible dome Suspended in space, our home, A crystal orb blue and green and white, Divided by a soft line between day and night, Beckoned me to its streets, Called me back to its sweets. Up I reached beyond God and the moonish wild And stretched to Church and God's estranged child: I had seen God's signature in a superstring And heard God's love in the Cosmic sing; Would but Wisdom and its priests fall silent Would that Science, its child, offer its Talent.
©1991, John A. Mills