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april 1, 2024 — luna
oh, luna, tell me so
do you love me enough to let me go?
if you're the moon and i'm the sun
don't you think i'm better off alone?
oh, luna, i'm not the only star you'll find
rigil's brighter and toliman's one of a kind
being good is different from perfect
don't settle, consider every aspect
when i said you were the best thing to happen to me
i actually meant that only you ever stole my need to be free
oh, luna, i hope you'll understand
that going with you is to forget me
but being me won't stop my heart
from knowing we were written in the stars
and how i loved you from the start
always and forever, from here and afar
— reddestofscarves, 4:05 pm
I was thinking about how poetry is all about the human experience, and that led to wondering about experiences that most people don't get to have. This all led me to wondering whether there were any poems written by astronauts, and I found this one, which I thought I'd share.
Last Day in Space
Tomorrow we light our rocket, we burn our engines and likewise, burn a hole in the sky, And thus fall to Earth. How does one spend your last day in space? Looking at Earth, a blue jewel surrounded by inky blackness, Pure Occipital Ecstasy. Unconstrained by your girth, you fly with vestigial wings. The atmosphere on edge, iridescent blue with no earthly parallel, Electrifying Diaphanous Beauty. Guarded by Sirens of Space, singing saccharine songs, beckoning you to crash on the atmos-reef which tears you limb from limb and scorching what remains into cosmic croutons that sprinkle onto the garden salad of Earth. One last feast out the window, A looking glass of Wonderland. Offering both a portal to see your world, and a translucent reflection to see yourself. Contemplation; what is your place in this world below, how do you change it, how does it change you. We are wedded to this planet, until mass extinction we do part. Perhaps one planet is not enough. You study your charts, we prepare our spaceship, and our minds. We make ready our descent, into these seemingly gentle arms. The eager anticipation of hugging your wife, your boys with grins followed by pouting faces, both excited to see you but not understanding why you left. Oh how does one spend your last day in Space. What would you do?
-- Donald R. Pettit
(A NASA astronaut who has been on three space flights, with 370 days in space. I found this poem on the NASA website.)