Bus blue

A pale blue dot is home but the way
Things and sky and mountains rose
We heard bus conductor say “right”
We’d dash off in rickety village bus
Towards distance and blue desire.

We and conductor are on same dot,
His bag of money a small rectangle
In the vast roundness of a blue dot.
His “right” is powerful , with a force
A bus achieves desire and distance.

With no blue at the end of desire,
The bus blue turns afternoon gray
But here is another blue beginning
He and you and a mountain’s blue
And the mountains are so smooth
In a smoky blue daydream of eyes
And sky is blue in a pale white dot.

( ref. Carl Sagan’s iconic pale blue dot monologue)

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