Can anyone hear me?
Detached voices ring out.
Ghostly word shadows
sing in staccato gunfire screams.
Echoing, distant.
Fizzling through static streams.
Images beam
onto the computer screen,
flickering faces, glitching
distorted memories
of a faraway dream.
Faces I remember,
ghostly voices
from some long distant place.
A different world.
Someplace else.
Somewhere across
vast galaxies of hell.
A conversation,
two sides
divided by
cracked brick walls of time.
My words are all out of sync.
One thousand years out of sync
to be precise.
Can anyone hear me?
My words walk
aimless miles across
the crushing
claustrophobic expanse.
Distant and vast,
but so small a place
when your own words
are your only embrace.
Clutching themselves tightly,
for warmth
in this eternal night,
this vacuum of space.
Time takes turns twirling tormentedly
around planets and quasars,
bouncing from nebulas,
dodging lazy shooting stars.
The echoed sounds
still ring out.
Are you there?
Can you hear us?
Though they are
starting to wane.
Voices crackling with age.
As the distortion zips
across the screen again.
Can anyone hear me?
I repeat. Over and over.
My words just bleat
like sheep in a field of nowhere.
I fear.
I fear my words
will never breach
another set of ears.
For those ears
Are already becoming too old
to hear the words
I preach. I'm alone. In space.
So far away and
so completely out of reach.
Thanks for reading
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