Was The Journey Worthwhile?

Will I justify my finger
touching points of distance?
and have to then obtain permission
to find you ravishing?

Across the universe(?) I wave,
a frantic waif tossed amongst the
debris of advancement;
Your lips the same dark shade as always
and your arms the same length as always….

My meteors cannot, will not, decimate
your world,
you are far too guarded and girded for any intrusion
to be successful.

So, will I justify my finger
touching pin-point lights in fecund skies?
and to then curl up in my capsule
and head for home?

Won’t you bid this traveler welcome,
and offer drink and food, a little light relief
from eons of torment?
Questions and quests, faith tossed hard, back into the
abyss from which it swam – blinked haggardly
in the light and withered over millennia in its own
self-assuredness.

The steel feathers and plastic butterfly wings
with which you drape yourself
keep you fetal within,
and I blast away from all your reticence
nightly, yearly,
a lifetime spent cooped up in this role
with air slowly dwindling and hope
a distant, almost decadent, folly.

Peter Adamakakis has been writing for most of his 46 years and loves sci-fi and good moody, campy horror in the Vincent Price vein.

Find more by Peter Adamakakis in the Author Index.

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