Flight by Terence Cummings-Smith,
I ride the path ballistic,
in a screaming, scorching arc.
From perigee in flaming hell
to apogee far beyond Arcturus.
Neutrons and tachyons spray,
from magnetic nozzles.
Through burning twisting vortex,
of syncopated space and time.
Reality compresses into pinpoint ultraviolet before,
Mote infrared behind.
My very thoughts lingering,
most far behind.
Time's march freezes,
rolls retrograde.
Nuclei dance, atomically chattering,
Quarks trance.
And I'm there.
Categories:
tachyons, science fiction,
Form: Blank verse
Watching the first light
of a Mechanical Dawn
cress the filigree
of a divinities detonated forms, LIGHT!
Breaks cold & precise
The passing of morn
Processing the binary of life
The stains of tachyons
The helix of soul
Heliosphere of fire, fine
Blown into space held by gravity
Faster than the echos of matter
Held by strings tired to all
In creations call
Seeing the afterglow of a nuclear blast
Suspended in the aura of the aftermath
The Mechanical Dawn brakes the theories
Of starlight Drive
The engines divine
The life in binary code
The spiral of soul
…in a mechanical dawn!
Categories:
tachyons, allegory, allusion, analogy, anger,
Form: Free verse