By Their Spaceships Ye Shall Know Them

Snatch the dreampulse,
the sunbounce
reflecting off fins of slim rocketships
rising from steaming spaceports,
guided by sliderules
(or logbooks,
or ten ton multivax
that take a break to calculate dates
but dream themselves half-way human,)
rising, rising, faster than light,
the double star, the fusion drive flash,
that contrail in the sunset
beauty in mastery,
outward, upward,
to coruscation decoration galaxies,
universe held in our grasp
because we don’t need heaven
not while we have
the future perfect.

(In memory of Arthur C. Clarke.) 24th March 2008