Reaching the moon seemed inevitable.
Like growing up. Never been there before
but no reason to think it a fable.
So how did ‘Never cease’ become ‘Shut the door’?
Grounded on the plateau of adulthood,
where did it go, that impulse for take-offs?
You’d think we’d reach for the stars while we could
but our systems shut down like stifled coughs.
We sputter into being, look around,
experiment, accept, reject and surge.
Then lose that looseness; once gone, never found
The flagpole lists - light and dark will not merge.
Armstrong’s dry footprint in moondust still lies
Who the hell knows just what it signifies.
Alternative closing couplet:
That’s one small step, announced Armstrong back then.
Mr Withers in class: Now back to page ten.
bw
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