Six hundred earth years from now
in a sphere, safe in Galaxy Ten,
cyborg cross-breeds focus a scope
on their "first world" remembering when
their very distant ancestors
left it floating behind in space--
never to be reclaimed,
but for fleeting memory trace.
betray some traces of feeling, too,
as they marvel at the uniqueness
of that planet and feel,
in their own way, blue.
Their lost world, barely visible,
Is beyond their teleportive range,
and they will never pick a flower there,
or bathe in its great oceans.
And they long for it,