Mapped
Collections
Of
Stars
Crowd
The
Skies,
Bright
Reflections
Stirring
Distant
Recollections
Of
Another
Home,
From
Which,
Long
Ago,
We
Chose
To
Roam.
With
No
Viable
Planet
Left,
Folk
There
Bereft,
Perhaps
While
Still
Alive,
We
Flew
Away
To
Again
Survive,
Basking
In
Another
Sunglow,
Until
We
Blow
This
Earth
To
Dust
And
Wander
On,
As
It
Seems
Humans
Must.