Find us worlds, little one, real worlds!

Not more bloated bags of garish gas racing

crazily ‘round their stars, barely far enough away

from their seething surfaces to escape

being dragged down into their heart-of-Mordor cores,

but worlds where we could talk and walk

on springy, surf-soaked, sandy shores

and climb great mountains carved from stone…


Find us a place Out There where gentle grey rain

would wash our faces as we stood on the edge

of a sullenly surging ocean, feeling soft-scented winds

blowing in from islands oh so far away.

Find us a planet where, slowly crouching down,

we’d find real rocks scattered ‘round our feet,

lying on the dusty ground; a world where cracking

such old stones together would sound like snapping bones…


But there is no rush. Gaze at the glittering star clouds

shining silently ‘tween the Swan and the Lyre

as long as you need; we will wait patiently here

on the world below until you Know for sure,

then you can finally set us free, send our

spirits soaring into a sky revealed at last

to have been concealing Other Earths from view

all along – as many of felt, but could not prove…


I grew up knowing just one Earth – the one I stood on

when I looked up at The Moon, wondering how

it changed its shape; the one I walked on as I made my way

Reluctantly to school, wishing I could have remained

At home to watch the latest grainy Moonwalk on TV;

The one I gazed down on through my bedroom window,

Blanketed with unicorn white, pillow soft snow

On unbearable, endless Christmas Eves…

But if you succeed, the children of today will need

To find new words to describe the nature of their sky.

Their heavens will contain countless un-named Other Earths,

Each one a blue-green sequin spinning round a distant sun,

Glinting in the dark galactic night like a fisherman’s fragile fly.


And on that wondrous day, when weary travellers from Terra gaze

Down upon the surface of the first New Eden to be reached

They’ll whisper your name as they stand upon a golden beach

On the edge of an alien sea, and, staring at a strange,

strange sky, wonder how it must have felt to be alive

in that dark and lonely time when just one Earth was known to Man…


© Stuart Atkinson 2009

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1 Response to TO SEEK…

  1. Pingback: KEPLER poem « Cumbrian Sky

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