Planet, you are not so beautiful,
Not such a hospitable environment,
That I may acclimatise,
No green valleys, lush with twisting conversation,
Swathes of ice cold charm,
Vapours of vanity,
Wisps of interest,
Your terrain is foreboding,
Often cruel,
And yet there is Lichen,
There is Algae,
There are microbes of humanity.
There are peaks to climb,
Crevices in which to delve,
Succulent textures of foreign flesh,
There are boulders that may be touched,
Held,
felt.
From here in outer-space,
To this wondering satellite,
It looks
To me
Like Life.
And it is alien to me.
And passing by at warp speed,
On a course across the stars,
To nowhere in particular,
To lonely, drunken bars,
Your planet generates
A strange gravity,
It is a simple matter of science,
And fact.
You exist,
And it has been so long,
Since my feet touched the ground
And like a tractor beam,
It pulls me in,
And I am in orbit,
Despite my efforts,
To regain control of my craft.
And round and round we go,
The uninhabitable planet
And the loneliest Astronaut,
Who ought to know better,
And unable to disembark,
Or disengage,
I will orbit you
And planets like you,
Forever.
Bom, bom, bom,
A satellite of Love
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