Unmanned

Like stars...glowing white
against a clear blue sky.
The souls rise up at velocities
far greater than their Bodies' descent...
Becoming light.
We search the heavens
for one last glimpse.
While one hundred thousand
twisted fragments of the ship return...
Unmanned....
It's Pilots have gone Home.

Blake Xolton

Copyright 2004 Blake Xolton

Though most of my poems are lyrics, 'Unmanned' is not. I watched in stunned silence as the Columbia reentered the atmosphere, broke into pieces and became a streak of white scoring its terminal path across the sky. For a fleeting instant, nothing else mattered. Not the coming war, nor any of the ten thousand things that a moment before seemed so important. That place in time has passed but the memory of those courageous space travelers will always be with me. It is my hope that reading this poem will remind you of their sacrifice and their ultimate destination. 

 I wish to thank my mentors: Phil Spector and Dan Kessel. Both Veteran Cosmic Rockers that have blazed a trail though the wilderness.................. few can follow. 

NOBLE HOUSE

THEATER OF THE MIND

POETRY DIVISION

 

LONDON-PARIS-NEW YORK