Another Astronaut Retires

The best way of announcing
He had no new terrains
Left to explore

Was with the city at gridlock,
In an electrical storm,

Amidst the wet, manic pavements
Of a bustling city,

A worried nation,

All telekinetic prayers
And fetishized chords
Of depression,

Commercialized indecision,
Derision and sitcoms –

An absurdist existence
For most folk,

But most folk
Skipped hope long ago.

A world away from
The stifling black
And the beauty of dusk,

He was part of a vision,
But that vision’s outgrown,
Left to rust,

Blown faith bends
The wrong way sometimes

Much like songs,

And that silent, floating shape
Was a human all along.

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