Terra Incognita
A continent we haven't yet worked out,
it may be barren, may contain high worth.
The more we learn, the greater grows our doubt.
A place of poison spiders, clot-red earth,
it's huge. Marseilles to Moscow isn't quite
the space which separates Penrith from Perth.
When first we meet it, promise glitters bright.
Its sun is strong, its vegetation lush ...
Harsh truth defeats analysis so trite.
This beauty is skin-deep. Sweet waters gush,
but only on its gaily-colored fringe.
Interiors are ominously hushed.
Just scratch the surface, there's an ocher tinge
which speaks of life extinguished. Dead rocks seethe
beneath cruel radiation. Reptiles cringe
in crevices. There's nothing here to breathe.
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