Remember: The watcher

She was the watcher. That was all that she did
She would watch the world without interaction
It's all she'd done since she was a kid
It would've been all she'd do until death

But I, I sought out and met the watcher in person
I wanted to discuss great things
They marvels she'd seen, but also her aversion
To going out and experiencing the world

"Will you not come with me?" I near begged at her side
But not because of her beauty or looks
You've been cooped up too long watching from inside
The earth is there for all to enjoy

She looked at me, and gave a wise, tired sigh
"I would like nothing more than to explore with you
But I stay here for a reason, and you must understand why"
I waited so I could hear what she would say

"The world is more beautiful than you could possibly realise
I have seen thing no others ever will
But these memories no exist no place but behind my eyes
I could not stand them to vanish if I would go

Life and all in it is temporary
It is fleeting and transient at best
So I must stay to hold it my memory
To let it last. To let it live, if just a little while more.

Space: Rising up

And I rose.
I wove jovially at the odd collection of individuals around me
The pillow of air bellowed out below swallowing all I could see
A transparent bubble of separation giving an indication of reality
The untouchable. The others. The ever further away.
I was swept into the aether as it took me where it may.

And I rose.

Going up now, going up ever ever higher
I was excited, yet only via aid I could even respire
My mind was raised up, up, up to a scene to inspire
And I had to admire the entire collage of colours collect
Though nature has her faults you have to acknowledge her palette

And I rose.


I danced on clouds since up until now in life I'd had to refrain
I spread my arms and pretended I was an aeroplane
And I looked down at the ground, that refuge of the sane
As it grew smaller and smaller, and grew a horizon
As the earth shrunk my landscapes widened and wizened

And I rose.



Here from the edge of space everything looks so small
The boundaries blur as if they were nothing at all
I rose from the politics, the arguing, the discriminating, the brawl
And it was only so far away that I finally did know
I didn't want to return back. I didn't want to go.





And I fell
I would be safe. I would be secure
My own little bubble would still be so pure
But still I had to wonder how I'd endure
Knowing how fragile, and how small we are
How I could live among the ants I had once seen from afar.

Inspired by someone going really high into the atmosphere and then not being so high - http://www.nytimes.com/2014/10/25/science/alan-eustace-jumps-from-stratosphere-breaking-felix-baumgartners-world-record.html

Space: The gap in conversation

Alright, sit back and settle in.
Let me describe how your evening has gone so far.

A good friend of yours has dragged you along to a party.
You went because he needed some confidence, and you wanted some entertainment.
He's currently trying to stand up while chatting to a girl in the corner. He's having about equal success at both.
The only issue is, that leaves you alone.

The party itself is decent. The drinks are about the right level of cheapness. The house has just less seating space than is ideal. And so far not one person has started a fight or thrown up on themselves.
It's kind of dull to be honest. But you're fine with that. You've had a bit too much excitement at these things recently. I'll leave it up to you as to whether you were the cause of the excitement.

But anyway, you've tried chatting to a few people. But nearly everyone else is either in the wrong type of investment banking for you, or too keen to talk about people they've known. You've been talking with other people about other other people a long time, for so long you're not really sure if these others really exist.

You look at your watch and decide it's just too early to leave, yet. You don't mind going without your friend (he's fully occupied after all), but you've just never imagined yourself as being the *first* to leave a party. You want to make one last go at conversation.

Then, you find them. And by them, I mean the person you've been unknowingly looking for all party. The one you actually sort of don't mind hanging around for more than 5 minutes.

"Hi!"
"Hi."

You can tell it's going well so far.

You follow with a "How are you?", and then it turns to "How have you been?" and you start fantasizing with them about "How will you be?". Without really trying, you're talking. It could be there's something more there but for the most part you're just so happy to be finding out about someone, and discovering they're someone it's worth finding out about.

You glance down at your phone - not (for once) to check your messages but just to see how long you've been there. It would now be more than acceptable for you this to call this a good night, try to find your friend and stagger home with him. But you don't want to, not yet.

But, just thinking about it makes your brain freeze. And I don't mean time stands still, no, time is very much moving about the very stationary you. They look straight into your eyes, possibly with a hint of concern (and it seems like genuine concern, as much as anyone does care for each other at these parties). They ask if you're ok.

And you're just sitting there.

Sitting there.

Begging your mind to come up with something.

This is it. The  s p a c e.

This is where you decide what it's all about.

What does this conversation mean to you?

Does it mean anything at all? Will it just stand out as a good night in your mind, a meaningful highlight that there are real people in this world.

Does the person in front of you mean anything to you? How much talking have they been doing? How much have you been doing? God, has it just been you rambling on so far? You'd been so engrossed in the conversation you hadn't thought to check. What's their name again? You know them so well but you're not fully sure you know their name, and it's certainly too awkward to check.

Is it love? Or is it a genuine friendship? (After all, falling in love happens every night for some people but finding a good friend is something not worth ignoring either). Or is it just you desperate for companionship at this dull party.

Wait, someone is coming over. No. No they can't. This has been such a lovely conversation, don't make us acknowledge someone else. It'll ruin it. Not to be rude, but you were flowing so well and that doesn't quite work with three people there.

You were flowing, yeah. What were you even talking about now?

You're aware they're still patiently waiting for you. Are they just being polite? Kind? Do they care about what you're going to say? Or are they just curious as to how you'll dig yourself out of this hole?

Why are you not saying anything? Come on.

This could be your chance.

At what, I'm not quite sure, but your chance at something. Something more than anything else that's gone on so far.

You can see them glance away. And you see why.

The friend you came with has managed to start a fight. With himself.

With a sigh, you get up and make your excuses. You ask them to hold on, promising you'll be back and hoping you aren't lying.

You go and help your friend. After all, that's what good friends are for.

He's not really speaking as you manage to get him into the car. You pass the person who was waiting for you on the way. You smile at each other, and it seems like there might be something there. Possibly. If you'd kept talking you could've just ignored this. But you couldn't. And your friend, now unconscious, is drooling slightly on your lap. Ah well, you say to yourself out loud, at least you're sure of some good conversation on the way home.

Space: The space inside

To be performed

I'm always kind of amused, whenever I find myself on stage.
Of all the emotions I feel, it's never fear or rage
I never want to strike out. I never want to hide
Just a curiosity. To find out what is inside.

See, I'm placed here before you all today.
All 6tf1 of post-teenage angst and decay
All of you see me, standing right here
All of you waiting for me. And I don't fear

See, some people get stage fright, that was never my scene
Others get an audience in sight and shout words that're obscene
I've known a man or two who sees a crowd and loves the attention
But my reaction is one that's just of my own invention

You are all sitting down there, trying to make a decision
What sort of person I am, am I worthy of derision
What am I saying, thinking, and about to do
Here's what you don't realise: I'm deciding the same about you

See, my own dull mind is the only one I know
It's quite spacious in there, it's not a fun place to go
But other people's minds? That's a wholly different tale
So leave me some breadcrumbs and I'll follow your trail

What are all of you odd little creatures thinking of in the space behind your eyes
What images are playing, what is the purpose which causes you to rise
How do you think? How do you see colours? How do you do?
If I see a thing do you see the same thing too?

Do you really think behind those eyes, or are you just put here to deceive me
But mostly what I want to know is are you willing to receive me
As a performer, after all I'm up here on stage to put on a show
So what I really want to know, is should I stay or should I go?

Space: Halley's Comet

You may not know, but earth gets a regular visitor.
And I mean regular, as in, with regularity.
It's far from a common occurrence
But, well, I like to imagine there's a purpose to the visit.

That, far far away, a grand council of others spotted this planet
That they saw it developing, so young as it then was.
And, for the purposes of science and stories
The decided that, every 3 generations, they would monitor our progress

And then they waited

They would have seen so much in our time.
I'd like to think they applauded the young man
The one who, only seeing their comet once, realised the pattern
That they watched, possibly unable to help, as we delved further into war

That these watchers note carefully the steps we've made
That they can see us start to stare up at them
That they let us grow
They watched us be slow

And then

They visited in 1910. And the world was starting to turn.
We'd blackened the land so we could travel it faster
We'd explored the world so we could command it
We had progressed for personal gain

Then, in 1986, they visited again. And the world had turned many times.
They'd seen the greatest period of peace in history
They'd seen us learn to communicate across the seas
They saw that we had finally started to explore beyond earth

Yet they will visit again. They always do
In 2061, the comet will fly by again
The earth will have turned many more times
And I wonder what the watchers will see

This is a little similar to a previous poem of mine, so apologies, but I liked this execution better. Also, there's a slight inaccuracy here. You see, for a rather odd reason, Halley's comet will be visible later this month (21st-22nd ish), a little earlier than planned. Maybe they got so keen to see what had happened next that they couldn't wait for an update.

Space: Flight

I hate this first bit.

Always have, always will

Never quite enjoyed this thrill

A clench of fists, my teeth grit

The countdown begins

I do a check - I've got my things



The safety announcement

Please lift up your cabin trays

Check how to exit on the displays

Departure is now imminent

I strap in real tight, fumbling

I can hear the engines rumbling

This trip is quite short

Due to last a mere two days

Which seems a long way aways

As my mind is on just one thought

I must stay conscious, I must

The engines start their thrust

I feel as if I'm dying

This is a slow but powerful course

I try to withstand the G-Force

And then we are flying

I have overcome my fear

My reward for consciousness is clear

All around me, space

The wonders of the galaxy come into view

In utmost clarity, vast and true

Yet mine is the only wondered face

Some glance briefly, the universe quickly seen

Others look not at all, this trip is routine

I am always sad when I realise

That humanity can so quickly be bored

With that which our discoveries grant accord

But then I see another set of glimmering eyes

The small girl next to me, staring out into forever

I squeeze her hand and we stare, together.

I've recently been flying a fair bit. I flew for the first time in 13 years last summer. I've flown twice again since then. And each time, I'm amazed to find myself up above the clouds. Full of wonder by all I see. It saddens me to realise I'm normally the only one. This happened with trains, it happened with planes and, it made me sad to realise, if we ever achieve space flight, it'll probably happen with that too. That which people nowadays would love nothing more in their hearts to achieve may one day become routine. As flying is to us. But that doesn't mean that there wont be a few who realise that some experiences are more than just a novelty. Hopefully.