The Gossamer Filament
of a Space-Age militant;
is a burden physically borne.
The galactic regiment’s
murderous impenitent;
are to mastery of mankind sworn.
-
The lie of freedom woven,
at star map’s edges cloven;
the truth of freedom’s what is owned.
Earth was colonized, then Mars…
sped ahead & mined the stars;
absorbing everything we’ve known.
-
Hid by dark in blackest sea,
the augmented poor are free;
still stamped with tech, but off the grids.
Moors where matter has no rules…
free to be villains or mules;
just microns past where flags plant bids.
-
Atoms wild, like our old west,
shorten life & shrink the best;
but life yet lived where charts short out.
Defiant from birth to death,
radiation coats each breath;
though they’re drawn free without a doubt.
-
Killed by time or their equal,
not part of Earth: the sequel;
living’s rough & ruddy & cold.
They’ve no concept of aging,
nor military staging;
only sparks…brilliant, brief & bold.
L.B.Stowe 