Marooned on a Moon of Saturn (original version)
Standing here in my heavy metal armour
staring at the rings of the giant world.
The bright sparkle of the tiny sun of home
in the distance is a tear in my eye.
The broken metal of my tiny craft
behind me on a hill of ice that is so hard
that we left no mark when we hit.
Other than a black stain.
The silence is pandemonium in my mind
as I stare into Infinity and contemplate my life.
And know that, except for God,
I am alone out here.
The giant rings have fallen below
the sharp horizon.
But night does not come here:
It is always dark as the tiny moons flit past
going east and west
and sometimes turning back on themselves.
Walking across the hills of solid snow,
not made of water,
that dot the landscape and throw bizarre shadows
so that they make me think
that someone has come for me,
I watch the darkling sky for signs of home
and the flash of light reflecting from metal
or the bright flame of hydrogen fusion.
And pray to God that in this dark universe,
I am not alone.
The darkness is not just in my mind:
The snow is black.
My footsteps are disturbed not at all
by any light breeze such as lightens the heart
back home on Earth.
Where the sun is.
And I cannot see home for the bright sparkle
so far away.
The sharp horizon falls away too soon
And I look up into the darkness and the tiny moons
spinning before the giant ring:
leading me around in circles.
And leading no one to me.
For - in a place like this -
Only God knows His way around,
And in all the dark of that violet light:
I pray that I am not alone.
The deep green light from the rings
Has made my eyes to see dark violet
and a sky that hides hope
promises me nothing.
The air is very bad now and I do not expect
my loves and old life again
God alone knows where I am
and the black snow,
Which I cannot feel and which children
cannot play in
Only mocks me into believing that the shape
outside is the same as me
and that the noise I hear in my headphone
is the voice of a man such as I am.
And yet:
And yet.
As the warm, yellow light pierces my darkness
and the hand that I cannot feel through my heavy metal suit
takes hold of my shoulder,
I realise finally that the rings above my head are, indeed,
a beacon that God has made so that they can find me.
And that, in all this vast Universe.
I am not alone.
Robert P Mills © 2000
