BRENDAN DUNLOP
“The Seven Days are written in our blood With hand of Fire. In some far universal Deep Did He tread Space And visit worlds beyond our blood-warm dreaming?” -“Christus Apollo,” Ray Bradbury The Something in the void, Radiant Waves of fresh photons Which speech had shone And flew through crafted space Through millennia these moments sing. All creation burns within memory And lights the days ahead. Wait some more, call ourselves As we smell the water of space And cry for rafts. Fire which warms the rocket-flowers And fuels creation’s growth Ask the mirrors of the clouds For new challenge to our comfort, And the humans in the heavens Find in the future to be ourselves.
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poetry
Promised Planets
