KindOf NaPoWriMo #8

[as agreed-- why, oh why did I agree-- a villanelle. Of sorts.]

“Pioneer”

The dusty light, cold space, and stars,
mark how little we’ve progressed,
mocking what we thought was ours.

Now just ash where once were towers,
the city fades while the pilot nods, chin to chest
beneath dusty light, cold space, and stars.

The sea shakes three times, the village scoured
and as suddenly the water returns to rest
Mocking what we thought was ours

“Hello from the children of earth” the first bars
of a one-sided symphony addressed
to the dusty light, cold space, and stars.

Ghosts make love in the last grey hours
the sounds of the soon to be dispossessed
mocking what we thought was ours.

Hand raised, and etched in gold, time alone devours
the plaque, our pitiful bequest
to the dusty light, cold space, and stars,
Mocking what we thought was ours.