My family visited at an aunt's house.
All my cousins were there, my grandparents.
Suddenly everyone was rounded up,
Pushed into one tiny living room,
Children seated on shag carpeting,
Parents standing around in every space,
Grandma and Grandpa in recliners,
But not reclining,
As we all breathlessly watched a black and white screen,
And a helmeted man descending a ladder.
The strange thing was,
I thought we'd already been to the moon.
Generations of boys, sometimes even girls,
Have grown up believing that anything is possible.
Space travel sounded glamorous, slightly dangerous,
But always something we could strive to do.
When finally a dark-skinned child can be the president,
Now, when the "impossible" has happened,
An entire dream is cut off,
And this one wasn't even impossible.
Our final frontier is not space, not reality,
But a fantasy of travel,
Going only where men have gone before.
Astronaut or president?
President or astronaut?
The boy who could be anything,
Used to have a much harder choice.
Now it's easier to be the president,
No matter who you are,
Than to travel the stars.
The machines have stolen our jobs,
Even in space.
Into the earth,
Into the ocean,
Deeper than ever before,
Nowhere to go,
No way to stop him,
Mankind must always explore.
Take away space,
Stop funding science,
Where will our brains take us then?
No other outlet,
How long will Life contain men?