Leaving for mars
Editor Underground
by Xing Jun Ng
The lights are going out
All over
the constellations melt
down into the darkness that came before
Starships flee this atmosphere
their vapour trails like umbilical cords
of infants crawling from a dying womb
Stillborn shuttles expire and
explode and still
candles lit at noon cannot hope
for their passing to be mourned
as sunset is mourned
From space, your cities are aglow
flushed with self-made radiance that proclaims
they are sufficient without the stars
that we are no longer creatures of dusk and slumber
of a time when carrying torches was romantic because we knew
they would go out
We would go out
alight with liquor and flames young as we were then
old as we are now
Ancient shells whose living occupants took off for something larger
leaving behind what they had outgrown
for the sea to reclaim
But the stars are not dead
nor shells alive
In strange eons, a necropolis will stand
its lamps flickering like charcoal sparks
its people a half-remembered dream
Wake, for the stars fall
We shall not see them lit again in our lifetime