Space Race

Engaged in a mad race against time, people

Create gods that ebb and retract like tides,

Feel a need to give every thing some name

Attempting to assign intelligible meanings.

The streets hide what whirs inside a molecule,

So wandering in dismay we seek our purpose

Finding meaning in the mystery, love and loss,

Those ups and downs constituting experience.

For vocation some take science as the epitome,

Others find in art a means for personal liberty,

And when an idea has registered as sure truth

Most proceed as though guided by gilded light.

There are sediments to sift for secret treasure,

Ocean floors hiding ruins of ancient societies,

Libraries aplenty wherein wisdom is stored

Offered without fee to the curious or bored.

Amusement soothes the disconnected heart,

Electronic gizmos and fancy gadgets, news

Of the latest scandals, blood feuds, fashions,

Gossip, even pirates on the high seas raiding.

Witnesses to saving grace especially blessed,

For them their frivolous fantasies make flight

Across immeasurable horizons of deep minds

Without any explanation, reason nor identity.

The massive information materializing daily

As we partake of a space race cannot outrun

Thoughts wrought from the calculating brain

That is not responsible for any missing data.

The optimum course depends upon reckoning

Properly which vector and at what speed one

Chooses to proceed while dodging obstacles,

Attached to a solid body and amorphous soul.

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Thomas Piekarski is a former editor of the California State Poetry Quarterly. His poetry has appeared in such publications as The Journal, Poetry Salzburg, Modern Literature, The Museum of Americana, South African Literary Journal, and Home Planet News. His books of poetry are Ballad of Billy the Kid, Monterey Bay Adventures, Mercurial World, Aurora California, and Opus Borealis.