I rise, a latter-day Phoenix, trailing
thunder and acetylene flame
in my wake, aimed at the broad acres
of Heaven. Star traveller, space nomad,
technology’s bright archangel,
I will fly into God’s blinding eye,
the blue eye of genesis.

The thin rind of atmosphere, biology’s
comfort zone, blazes with the sun’s
lancing light and ahead lies
the star-strewn expanse of eternity.

My soul screams in terror and ecstasy,
but I know that no matter how deeply
I probe the nest of galaxies,
the umbilical cord will not be severed –
behind me, the blue flame of Earth
still burns brightly.

Bill Fitzsimons

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2 Responses to Umbilicus

  1. Cate Anderson says:

    Great work Bill. Love phrases like ‘technology’s bright archangel’ and ‘thin rind of atmosphere’ which create powerful images. Your poem successfully evokes the adrenalin rush of a star traveller.

  2. Thank you, Cate. I’m pleased you like it.

    Best wishes,

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