Stargate2 Pose

His close kin who spell mankind; from distant memory they reckon, they shield This reckoning as a symbol of future tidings, and cannot journey with plasma Unblooded. For it is that which ends which draws onward that which begins And from dim, dreary and abysmal origins upon distant worlds the bright New flash of light will thunder and hit, running between worlds and the ship Gaining on the stars to try.... the fates, which stir the night. Yet to wander Is the last refuge for those, lost to the inhabited worlds, having ceased to wander Comforted by false notions, trumped up and sedated, they lay down their shield Seeking to fall into a world, where no swords are needed, anchored to a ship That doesn't sail, the beam-core gone to rust and lines not feeding plasma And minds and souls gone to orange, the colour rusting, not too bright When the blending rust of worlds breathes blood into iron and light begins Let the Captain call out the end as this begins; the star-beam beaming the shield, separating the time-warp, driving the wanderers, with space running, as plasma runs within, being and beaming from without; Is the running proof for the sites which we set, which fall when we wander