Against the black infinity of space
The brightly jewelled stars blaze forth,
Each star reduced to a pinprick
In the grandeur of the Universe.

Then: "Two points off the starboard bow
Our own world, ladies and gentlemen".
Beside her, her attendant moon
Receding slowly into nothingness.

When the Earth has disappeared behind
We look forward to the edges of infinity.
The far-flung reaches of the Universe
Are beckoning and we must go.

"It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down."
What poet, long dead, wrote those magic words,
While knowing nothing of the wonders of space?

How prophetic were those early poets
Who could describe our journey yet so many years hence?
(A painted ship upon a painted sea)
What foresight was granted them!

What could they know of magnetic forces
Harnessed to hurl us across the void
In a lesser time than they in their wooden hulks
Could round the globe we know as Home.


And so we venture forth in search of worlds,
Of Happy Isles circling those painted stars
With long dead poets weaving in our hearts
A vision of sailors on a sea of space.