Orbit Trails
The final vessel in the known universe finds only one version of communication.
Out on the edge of the planet stood
The last man made ship in the universe.
Everything seemed so good.
But it was just a simple curse.
The noise of the spacecraft,
It was like a payment to sonics.
They continued on as they cried and laughed.
It was like the audience of phonics.
Sounds spouted out and made the trek real.
The amount of time passed gave them codes.
It is the amount of what they could only feel.
The orbit trails seemed just like roads.
The sensation was something automatic.
When they sent out signals, they got static.
About the Creator
Sky Saunders
Stroll down a road of intrigue, power, and then lift aloft in the words that display the worlds that lie at the crux of truth, thought, alone time, and trading. Let the might of the mind, the strength of the sole person, and value sing.
S.S.
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