Note: I only ever write free hand and if your one of those free hand critics save it I don't care.
The endless reaches,
the unlimited freedom,
the feel of your controls,
smooth, polished, cold in your hands.
The rush in heart from the jump,
the satisfaction at a rich find.
The quiet serenity of months on end,
alone with thought and reflection,
the steady bustle of the spaceport,
The satisfaction of money made.
The wars rage,
companies rise and fall,
children are born,
planets are annihilated,
but you are above it all,
as a child watches in amusement,
at the frantic scurrying of ants,
so you are above all this.
Free of all responsibility,
not tied to anyone,
just you and your ship,
until the galaxy runs dry,
and there is no ore anymore.
You could retire,
money is more common then rocks for you,
but retirement is a trap.
to lure people from their contentment.
you suppose you will eventually die,
age will claim you and your ship.
just as your companions were claimed,
claimed by a long dead empire.
but until then you will live,
live in peace,
a miner until death.
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest