Pell recording of the poetry accompanying the Steady To Eden remix.

We are in the hungry pull of gravity;
the arm of the galaxy both lurching towards us,
and invisibly dragging us down.

I have to hurry,
ten thousand thoughts,
one hundred thousands tasks,
millions of dreams,
endless dreams,
and endless distractions.

Confirm that alarm,
turn off that siren,
readjust heading,
do it faster,
faster,
gravity is hungry.

Some peace among the buzzing instruments,
the beeping lights,
the humming beams,
while we drift perfectly between systems,
heading for our chosen furnace,
and its pet ball of rock.

Run down a hundred corridors.
Check that pipe.
Look over that line.
Airlock secure.
Ventilation active.
But, Lord, it is hard to breathe,
but, I keep running.

Time to wake the scientists,
the engineers and doctors,
the analysts and directors,
time to wake the geniuses;

“Wake up beautiful minds,
it is a new day,
and time to make a new world!”

I hate saying it,
it just seems so,
so;
But, it’s company policy.

Time to sprint,
we all felt the vibration,
I should be in the seat,
not playing nanny.

Too many things to do.

We’ve reached the halo,
the ice and emptiness,
the new world lies just ahead.

I pray for a perfect boomerang,
or at least,
a quick plunge into the plasma sea.

Hit the display a few times,
the crystals are old,
and need a little encouragement.

I know this sequence by heart,
the math is pure music,
my favorite melody,
dancing between God’s spheres.

This ship is an old gal,
time for an overhaul,
or retirement;
she’s old like me.

Maybe I’m getting too old for this job?
But, Lord, how I love it!