Warnings: None really
Idea: I wanted a soft sounding poem about Sci-Fi, so this is what I came up with. For those of you who want to know, the person in this can be any age, though I think of him as a young boy of 12-14 years of age.
He lay against the damp deserted plains
Longingly surveying the night’s sky
With the blinking stars and the shadowy veins
That fell between
Melodiously the sounds of a flute hover over his ears
And time does not pass in seconds, minutes, or years
As the body rests frozen to the earth
Leisurely his eyes take him up and out
And his body rises with the mind
Moving past the windmills
And then the clouds
Eventually traveling above the wind itself
Up and out into the flowing illuminated darkness
His cold body warms as the fervor of the sun touches
Flying past the green and blue sphere
He is tugged across the stars
Planets with rings, and those who are not planets at all
And soon he is flying fast
Until he stops
And bit by bit drops
In front of a different face
One that beams and clicks
And the words that flow from pert lips the color of the green sea
Are soft and bequeath him to be free
And then there is no body, and there is no face
There is only the mind
Which is granted the freedom to twist and travel
To guide and experience
The wide vast forever of space.
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