Neil Armstrong
The great man is dead
And he may find in this voyage
So many Columbus that left us blind
Without knowledge
Of earth indisputable speck
Steering the shipwreck
With malfunctioned cameras of dream.
The great man is dead
What this this new situation for him
Who made the first step
Through the wilderness of galaxies
On the threshold of the moon
Ambiguous mystery of origin
That makes man's giant leap?
The great man is dead,
An an entire age follows after him
Dwindling our thirst for adventure
By the measure fear
Of what our puny worth affords.
He was our Balboa there.
Death is something that happened here
A long before parachute sail
Confronted the invisible with dead arguments.
Death then is his escape
The brilliant subplot of faith
Refuting all the universe as strings
For why die to become what already are
Stars die to become stars
He dies to give back to dust
What dust has denied it wants to be.
The death of great men
Still make us see, how common we are
How similar from birth to end
How flimsy the mirage in which we pretend.
Shall I tell him farewell
Whom I soon shall meet
Not differing in status, not separated by class
Just dust of star become food for grass
That shall in one soon season
Become indistinguishable from us
Little specks
In the universe of great mysteries.
Let me salute him who fired boyhood to believe
Life is greater than man's logic perceives.
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2012
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