Space Dead.
Space Dead.
©-2009-MFB III
Somewhere far above us.
in the gaps
between the stars
that we cherish in
the wee hours
Lies a junkyard,
free floating
near an
inhabited planet,
whose occupants
know little about
the expulsion
of their own kind,
left virtually invisible
above their atmosphere
Here in the
grasping reach
of the immense
gravity field
of this planet
third from its
bright star,
lie the remains of
explorations gone bad.
Each continuously
spinning in orbit,
in various stages
of decomposition
and decay.
Empty shells of
heat resistant metals,
radiating a glint
of long past glory,
at that time when
they burst forth
between the clouds,
touching just the hem
of God's domain.
But each
were claimed
beneath the
sweeping pull
of fates wrath.
In the shadowed
darkness of their holds,
lie the effigies
of sacrifice,
each iced by methane,
and carbonated dioxide
after they
breathed their last.
Chimps whose jaws
were locked in a
perpetual scream
are now but
bones that
mark their
final struggles.
Seven dogs
sit frozen
in rigor mortise
four limbs
strapped tight
perhaps their howls
still echo within
the deepest corners
of their tiny
coffin.
Man's best friends
tricked to death
when they were
launched to test
the waters of unknown,
long before men dared
brave space.
But sadder still
in some of these
time capsules,
reclined in
frigid poses are
C o s m o n a u t s.
Sent up by
mother Russia
to find fame,
but some mere
miscalculations
set them loose,
into an endless
travelogue of death.
Like Post Modern
Flying Dutchmen,
s a i l i n g o n
forever,
their eyes wide open,
staring at the stars.
It was here
that their souls
rocketed onward
to even higher realms
and left the flesh shells
of failure far behind.
They hurl
onward in orbits
with no trajectory
in mind,
till the earth
eventually
reclaims its own,
cremating all of the
remnants of that age.
Outcasts who were
scrap booked in space,
to bookmark the goals
of earthbound dreamers,
seeking solitude.
Men who dared
to breach the mystery,
but discovered
that not all
that goes up,
must come down.
And so in a parade
of metal floats,
they serve as a
reminder that
immortality
can paint a
cruel picture
in flesh
long after souls
are set free.
Long Forgotten
by the masses
far below,
who know that
space is dead
but do not know
that there are
also dead in
space as well.
Each condemned
to circle the earth
for far too many years
in an airless hell
not of their own making
