Slung-shot ‘Round the Dark Side of the Moon

She glows, exquisite in her own brilliant light,

golden against the vast dark, effortlessly exerting

her pull on all things that flow and hunger.

We are pulled in, infused by her alluring power,

willing to cut our tethers, do anything

to join in the magic promise of her journey.

But proximity brings an unexpected peril.

Suddenly we are spinning in the dark,

separated, cut off, powered down, alone.

My capsule falls close to her surface.

I can see the rims of her canyons and craters,

while his dark blip races against the swarming stars.

I am cold, gasping for air I can breathe.

The needles are spinning, the gyroscope useless.

All I can do is pray for the intervention of grace.

And then, in the vast indigo distance, I see

a great light steadily approaching,

azure blue, emerald green, tawny and white.

My capsule picks up speed; above me his also falls.

We are both pulled down by a force we cannot resist

but somehow, miraculously, we find each other again.

Below us, their rims reflected by the far greater light,

her beautiful canyons and craters slip by,

but we are not falling towards them.

We are falling through space toward home.

One comment on “Slung-shot ‘Round the Dark Side of the Moon
  1. For you poets out there, this poem is supposed to be in tercets, with a final concluding line, but Word Press is being obstinate about allowing me to format it that way. My apologies.

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