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On thoughts of millenia, and a stations called "Mir"

Obit on an orbit....

Opening blurble

When I wrote the poem about Mir, it was about two years (or more) ago, when it was (at that time), about to be de-commissioned. I think that anyone who has come to know any kind of ship as a home in the storm would understand: What I was trying to say. From one point-of-view: Trying to exist in a hostile environment (such as space). (and it is the complete absence of environment that makes it appear to be so hostile .... But, alas. I realize That those words are those of a land-lubber (in this case quite litterally, a ground-hog, a terrestrial, a non-spacer, a ..... And still, the advances in technology have clearly made any thought of up-grade problematic at best (in fact, it is the entire problem of maintenance that forces us to realize that up-grade is not an option; indeed, our options at this point are sevrely ...... I suppose the words that are best are those of the tau.....
From cold space, serene and clear Cosmonauts glimpsed the one thing in the void that filled daily their view: Terra! World of our dreams, world of our fears, contantly turning, holdng all that is dear: Terra! From warm oceans lapping at desert shores, to penguin spaces coldly alive with life, From jungle's torrent of rains pristine, to mega-o-polis-es teaming with people: Terra! Oh, view of our world, oh, wondrous green big blue marble sighs and sights still un-seen: Terra! She was a good ship. Meerly meer her name, from cold space's warm glow, racing every round our world Station Terra! Station Mir. And still the suns flux past quietly flows, and still the suns flux past quietly flows. January 5, 2001. Back to the POETRY page Back to the MAC home page