Such expectation
cast upon a rock
floating in the darkness.
Does she look back on us
with that same wonder?
Does she still feel the
ache of separation
so long ago when Earth was new?
Who knew then
what sacrifice;
Who knew then
what wonders earth would spawn –
what warmth of kith and kin,
trilobites and dinosaurs and fragile men
making poetry
and mirth?
And she, silent on the deep,
gazing down,
always gazing down
upon the merriment.
Face to the Sun,
but no.
Face to the warmth of our fires
fierce across the void.
We need her there,
there upon the deep,
keeping watch and ward,
separating time and space
from the Earth below.
We romanticize and dream
and look with wonder,
But she,
she looks longingly
with wonder
back upon our dance
and waits
for man to come to her…
