The Search For Bio Markers
We peer through glass and radio hum,
At planets circling distant suns—
Seeking whispers, spectral crumbs,
Hints that life—like ours—has spun.
A biomarker is no shout,
No waving hand across the void—
It’s methane mixed with oxygen’s pout,
Patterns nature’s never toyed.
It’s pigment caught in photon’s snare,
Or breath of microbes long decayed—
It’s symmetry that shouldn’t be there,
A fingerprint the cosmos made.
We measure starlight split in bands,
Each color line—a cosmic clue,
Revealing chemistry’s subtle hands,
Painting life in gases’ hue.
So when you hear of “signs of life,”
It’s not green men or flying cars—
It’s carbon’s dance, with nitrogen rife,
A love affair beneath the stars.
And maybe—somewhere far, unseen—
A creature lifts its eyes like ours,
And wonders if its skies might mean
That we are their biomarkers.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
