PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

We should not have come here; and never should return.

I will not return, sane, to the earth.  My mind unravels slowly.

We should have remained in our solar system, that system was ours---

our home, our interplanetary temple of education;

our solar system was our evolution's destination.

But Pride, that always grasps, and scrabbles and clutches for more

is like a ravenous drug addict, a feral beast, or an insatiable whore.

We thought our words on earth were sufficient for all communications;

our intelligence sufficient to all contingent situations:

we thought the courage of our species constituted the epitome

of devotion to duty and to personal bravery.

My mind unravels slow; we should not have come here.

Here, and elsewhere I suspect, are horrors to which no language is adequate,

of which even a primal scream (of doubtful survival) is dubiously heard.

Dimension exist that crush our geometries,

as small sandpiles are pulverized by a trouble sea's crashing waves.

Too much, too often, too wrecklessly we dare

to approach these sentiences that gibber like a lunatics' nightmare;

we have nothing they have not, nor do they wish to share

the knowledge they jealously guard with us; nor do they care

that they have twised our minds, and sodomized our souls.

My mind unravels slowly like a tattered skein.

I shall not be returned to my home on earth perceptibly sane.

We should never have come here; and, if all or part of this

transmission you receive, and decipher, and hear---

oh please restrain your swagger and boisterious braggadocio

to earth and the solar system which, by now, are accustomed to them:

but do not bring them here.

Starward