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The Chain

I.B. Rad

Oddly, I never noticed
that thick chain,
much like those anchoring ocean liners,
extending outward from our starcraft.
Perhaps an illusion
produced by too powerful tractor beams,
it stretched through the ubiquitous gloom
gradually merging with an engulfing blackness,
that congealing shadow
that kept us in its’ thrall.
How often I’d thought of slipping away,
of stealing an Exit Pod
to follow that binding chain;
yet, of countless earlier flights,
none returned.
Others I’d spoken with
had also witnessed this apparition;
though curiously, our youngest travelers
seldom seem to have noticed.
And clearly, the chain moved,
for if you focused on a link
situated by one of those luminous whorls
and stared long enough,
you began to see it creeping outward,
toward the blackness.
But where is this chain drawing us?
Through an ever deepening vacuity, ad nauseam?
To some coveted emergence beyond imagining?
To our impending doom?
And too, with our ship only an infinitesimal
In an endless star flecked gloom,
are we journeying alone?
Clearly, no one knew;
so we made up fables, parables,
swapped tales
to sate our curiosity, to alleviate our fears.
And as few voluntarily relinquished
our ship’s highly circumscribed,
though ostensibly secure, familiar,
we crafted amusements to pass the time,
to distract us, to keep us entertained.
But deep within our hearts,
before this journey’s done,
each awaits their summons,
that irresistible pull
impelling them to take an Exit Pod,
to follow those who left before...
To where?



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