There are creatures on other, Worlds,
That look like us but, For the clothing they wear;
…delicate, gauze-like materials, that blaze…
…yet do no harm.
One visited last night, pointing out my story, -where I had come from and where I was going-
Billowing from a turquoise dress, As she beckoned.
We traveled in straight lines and at fantastic speeds,
I was not afraid.
“Come,” she said, “Look here.”
“In this ocean there are many levels, Much like your own we just,
Live, In the waters…”
And I look at the vast shimmering metallic surface Of the ocean she is pointing out,
Hues of orange, And browns and reds,
Like Mercury lit, By an amber Sun.
“The ones with technology,” she continued, “Live deep within the Mantle,
But not on, The Core…
…and they breath a finer form of this liquid, Than our air.”
“How do they move?”, I ask,
“Their locomotion”, she says, “Is fueled,
By magnetic fields in cold gas.”
It is not in the splitting of radiant metals, Rather,
In the special densities, Of Gold in the right chambers,
The surfaces of Neutron Stars, Super-conducting.
Life was never inside Europa -not intelligent life anyway but-
The Methane on Titan did something to Organic molecules,
Immiscible in the sludge, That allowed them to breath,
And to replicate, And to think.
The creatures on the crust sting, But the planet is defended,
By those further down, And the fumes they exude.
All beings discover that light isn’t to be overtaken if,
FTL drives are to deliver FTL speed,
That travel is not powered, It is transported,
And I saw people long dead, Connected to people still alive,
Creating those yet to be.
The last thing I remember is the string of pearls she was holding, In her pale, lussatite hands;
How they seemed to stretch out everlastingly,
Because we were still in motion.