13 February 2017


The cathartic nature of the aural ping,
as the bubbles resize and draw you in.
Danger lurks somewhere within.
Can ye find it? 
Gas, gas, data, relic, null,
probes in space unearth the soul.
Can I find somewhere to go?
Do ah care? 
Chain is forged and none shall see.
Sitting waiting patiently.
Writing terrible poetry.
Scanners pause.