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Sterility
2 December 1942
Along an orbit charted by the sun A charging cruiser swings, With flaring jets It sweeps a path elliptic. At his set A somber man keeps vigil for the call Of other ships that rendezvous. It comes On beamed light that pulses as alive With modulated frequencies And hums An alien intelligence. He nods And scans the message, Then returns to sit And contemplate again with weary gaze A universe. He idly tunes The photophones to scope a sullen sky Whose barren waste of star embedded night Has settled on his own immortal soul A touch of its aridity. He sighs And listens, half unconscious, to the dry Hypnotic rustle of the myriad stars, Whispering.
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