A beam pierces the conserved canopy
Three hours before noon
All night it’s been tunnelling,
Till now, through clear skies it lands,
Five paces away from me
“This is it,” I think,
Gazing at the hazy chute.
“This is the sign I’ve waited for.”
I am ready:
“Beam me up Scotty!”
I feel a little warm, but my feet haven’t left the ground.
They are planted
And I must squint to source the mother ship.
No answer. The transporter must be on the fritz.
Hmm . . . I suppose this beam could fry those croaking toads,
Leaving my footsteps alone to dominate;
Nah! Let them croak their throats sore;
I’ll probe the final frontier.
It’s a hard place to penetrate,
Lacking as I do, a chief engineer.
“Oh Scotty? . . . Come in Scotty!”
Hmm . . . the voice communicator’s dead.
Well, in the interim, let my dream enterprise suffice.
I must leave to water the seeds of the universe.
Because one thing’s for sure,
One day they’ll burst forth on the horizon,
Providing new portals between worlds.