Malcolm E. Wright

Chiron / Sea Of Love

Like an early astronaut, weightless in space,
he is connected to the life support system
in the Mother Ship
by an umbilical cord.
It trails behind him as he
spacewalks round the firm mound
of his mother's tummy.
We sent out probes
and discovered his existence.
Some said that if he hadn't been there
it would have been necessary to invent him.
We thought it wise to name our creation.
At first he was just an idea in the mind,
a hunger in the heart,
but given time he became more real.
We scanned the sky and saw his face
before he joined the human race,
but his voice could not be heard
where there's no air.
I get the feeling he would cry out if he could.
We will be responsible for his education;
he'll get a thorough grounding in life
as it is lived on the Earth.
He'll need to find his legs, learn the language.
Everything will be alien to him at first.
I look forward to his taking
his first steps on this world.
Gaining weight as landfall approaches,
gravity assists his descent,
arriving on the planet after nine months,
not on dry land,
but splashing down
in a warm sea of love.