Quotes and Poetry on spaceflight

The Fifty-Fifth Tongue

Release me, release me
There's a poem tapped in morse
Where a cowardly death-rattle
Sits waiting by its horse
It speaks of your Voyage
It stands upon your eyes
To be told to a people
When the last of us dies

In the redness of the distant
In the coldness, in the dark
Skulls of your shamans
Are building us an ark

There's an altar for my mother,
And a window with old blinds
To protect me from sorrow,
In a billion years and minds

My King has called me, the fifty-fifth tongue
Awaits to be written, etched, and strung
To be told to a people
When the last of us has died
In places where God sleeps
Unchained, untied

I shall walk again past these tears again
Where death is thinly drawn
The sands of the Nazca
Shall stir the broken pawn
My ancestors lie there
In defiance of Rot
To send my saddled horse to you
With its Pale Blue Dot

I must go where they are waiting,
I must travel to that ark
Where a thousand mothers call my name
From a thousand graves unmarked

I must go where they await me
'Neath a crystal obelisk
Where a million souls call my name
Upon that Golden Disk

©rishabhpal22