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by Ronski Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Sci-fi · #2259873
The vast, last, contrast. (2021 Quill Award nominee for Best Long, Structured Poem)
In the aeons before the Dawn,
In the midst of a starry yawn,
There was a world where life was naught,
A stark effect that time had wrought.

Burned and chilled by the parent sun.
Air long gone to oblivion.
No wind no more to stir the dust.
No core in heat to move the crust.

Bloated star only leaks light red.
Grains of fusion do wildly wed.
The mother sun her sons she ate,
This world will meet a sim'lar fate.

Blackened face remains locked in place.
Dark side looks out to frosty space.
Across the gray and withered hills,
The silence speaks with deathly stills.

%%

Out from the void a ship appears,
Shouts from within and muted cheers.
Is this the place? Is this the place?
Our home from whence we sprung to space?

Ship so sleek and a silv'ry blue,
Dressed in green was the vibrant crew.
The transport boat does come to ground,
To bring the folk to look around.

What could they find? It's all deep past.
Ages long gone; how could it last?
Erode, corrode, and fall to dust,
So too all things folk-made they must.

'Ception is a substance so rare,
Built with their unusual flair.
Survive it may a span so vast,
So too perhaps the stellar blast.

Substance made in atomic spheres,
Locked in grid for a billion years.
And so they plow the dirt and sand,
In search, and hope, of things so grand.

Yes! they exclaim, There's something here!
Yesterday's trove becoming clear.
The shard they find is what they need,
To prove this world was home indeed.

Info deep-stored and crystal-bound,
History there will thus astound.
It is an old library core,
And filled with their folklore and more.

%%

Time; it is time. Goodbye today.
This is the last we'll see, they say.
Too soon this world will be but gas,
And be a part of mother's mass.

Age so slow in dilated time,
Live so long and be in their prime.
Among the stars they move near light,
So ages pass while they're in flight.

Seek to flee the heat death of all.
While the old-verse holds them in thrall,
They grow a new-verse in a hole,
A home anew and there their goal.

Time it takes, and so they must wait,
New-verse born does need to inflate.
And so they speed through space and time,
And to a Dawn anew they climb.
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