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the astronaut follows in silence
the trace of the beacon lights on the platform floor.
in front of him, the beautiful and sinister steel dome
floats supported by element 115.
the dome gates slide in pairs
at the top of the retractable ladder
and while the hangar resounds its footsteps,
softly the ship welcomes him.
he leaves and knows that those two satellites
are deimos and phobos,
but he doesn't find the landing boots,
the helmet has cracks that expand non-stop
and he forgets which buttons he should press.
there is no god there
to bless this spectacular death
and about those hands that didn't wave goodbye,
he doesn't like to remember.
today is one of those days
in which we are not in ourselves,
he thought,
still seeing the ship plummeting to mars.
days when we leave ourselves at home dreaming,
or that we send our image up front
so that we can wait for ourselves.
he regrets,
but it's time to give up,
forget everything and himself,
today is a day to not arrive.

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