Human Imagination And Old Myths Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

No alien, clear and bright,
Has shown itself in day or night.
No spaceship landed on our green,
No creature seen, a living scene.

The pictures blurred, the tales they spin,
From dreams or fibs, where do they begin?
A trick of light, a fleeting thought,
A story made, and dearly bought.

The sky is vast, the stars so far,
To cross the dark, a distant star.
Our science knows, it takes its time,
No speedy trip, no easy climb.

Perhaps a light, a shining gleam,
A planet's glow, a waking dream.
A secret plane, that zooms on high,
Misunderstood against the sky.

Our minds can play, in shadows deep,
See shapes unknown, while we're asleep.
Imagination, wild and free,
Can paint what isn't meant to be.

Like ancient tales, of skies unknown,
Before our science had clearly shown,
The world around, the natural way,
They told their stories, day by day.

With clever minds, they built so high,
Mapped distant stars up in the sky.
But their words told of things unseen,
Not science fact, but what had been

A way to think, a moral guide,
With symbols deep, where truth could hide.
Not meant for labs, or proof we see,
But faith and feeling, wild and free.

So tales of space, of beings grand,
Are woven dreams, across the land.
No solid proof, no touch, no trace,
Just stories whispered in this place.