Newsflash:
Tuesday, 31 December 1996 20:00
Last Updated on Sunday, 08 October 2006 16:17
It's a question as old as the sands of Mars
And has laid buried beneath the surface
For ten thousand years and more
Of erecting spires
And painting mammoths on our walls.
Now it rises from the bright red planet
To dare us answer before our gods:
What becomes of our special creation
If we are but one of many,
And how many Calvary's must there be
To save a billion living planets
And the strange humanity
That struggles there?
What green tentacled Jesus
Stands rejected
And waits in the garden
For her Romans to come
And play out their part in eternity?
Upon this rock, so lately found,
Ripped and tossed into the Antarctic cold,
We will build our future and seek our messiahs
Among the dying embers of an infinite universe.
And has laid buried beneath the surface
For ten thousand years and more
Of erecting spires
And painting mammoths on our walls.
Now it rises from the bright red planet
To dare us answer before our gods:
What becomes of our special creation
If we are but one of many,
And how many Calvary's must there be
To save a billion living planets
And the strange humanity
That struggles there?
What green tentacled Jesus
Stands rejected
And waits in the garden
For her Romans to come
And play out their part in eternity?
Upon this rock, so lately found,
Ripped and tossed into the Antarctic cold,
We will build our future and seek our messiahs
Among the dying embers of an infinite universe.
- 1997 -
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Starpoetby Lisa Jain Thompson.
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