Far Centaurus - Poem by Daniel Brick
We bent time into space.
The trans-atomic engine blinked three times
as our spaceship, BRANWREN, accelerated,
shot forth, piercing the darkest abyss,
hurtling toward far Centaurus.
Before she blinked again, we were
half-way there, where sounds are
sonic eclipses, smells multiply like prime
numbers, and sights flare with infrared shock.
Tired but exhilarated,
committed to the nth degree, we stare
fixedly at hundreds of blue-green instrument
panels. We leave nothing to chance. We are
Star-Voyagers, released from the mass of humans
still trapped on a dying planet. Liberated from its heavy
gravity, our brains accelerate faster than our ships.
We travel across the Milky Way's arc into the Beyond.
We are the Angels of a New Creation!
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