How evocative the codes for the initiated MN4 swamped by tsunami SF36 with otter's whiskers FG3 coupled but still wooing suiters TC3 the uninvited guest.
Less euphonious than the gods,
but potentially no less mighty.
Do we alone know the Sun?
Does it shine in other constellations,
bright and honored, as the eye
of a wise leader?
A favorite gem in a heavenly necklace?
Or does it reside in the middle of a list
of middle-sized stars
in a poorly-read article
about potentially habitable stars,
loved by only a few?
We cannot stop with just one sojourn for truth. We should travel together if we are to travel at all, not just a rock named for Tenzing but a team under his command, Henson not forgotten amid the white wastes but taking first steps on a red planet, not content to put Sacagawea on the front of a coin but front and center on truly new worlds.
We look through windows with frames defined by the air. Undertaken By Vision, Receiving Intelligence from a newer breed of disk cameras. Even the color-blind can tell red from gray, stone from soot, oh from gee.
Another night in the high castle with the galaxy swirling above. We wring what we can from our unreflective quarry. Ghosts of Lourenço Marques and Salisbury nourish our bodies, stereo admonishes we're wasting time sitting still.