July 21, 2009

Landing



Zero gravity, hurtling through the breathless flight.
A Debussian ripple skitters to the apogee,
returning a tidal rush. The sea of tranquility
was really deep that night.

Two stars and a contrail adorn the dawn,
an ideogram of a kiss.
I can see, from here, how far a paradigm can shift.
We chose to go to the moon.

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