So, I've written a little poem which represents something of these dreams, and what I think it would be like if I were an astronomer of some sort.
The Astronomer
Those feisty little points of light
that we all call the stars.
Some glow dim, some sparkle bright
Some are brilliant enigmas.
When I was young and on a pitch-black night,
They would be strewn across the sky.
But with things like telescopes and Einstein's might,
then only did I start to see why
they actually burnt with that certain red
or some other bluish hue.
Some even went all the way to black
holes that could swallow you.
On a sort of hungry mission
I embraced gravity.
I chewed on nuclear fission
and general relativity.
I kind of lost myself in
that dark abyss called space.
I used to dream that I could win
some fast-paced rocket race.
But no more, because now
I analyse grainy images.
And then I have to find out how
to explain them in the pages
of my latest publication.
There's not much time left for
growing my crazy imagination,
which leaves me a little sore.
I grapple with the mechanics
and solve some complex equations.
Working like some fanatic
bent on finding salvation.
The computer hums, a huge machine
of extensive calculating power.
Strings of data all heaving and lurching
In the background numbers hover.
I used to dream of purple planets
and deep seas of acid green.
But now as my work would have it,
there's only my computer screen.
I discuss object trajectories
and gravitational lensing of light.
Some boring yet exciting territory
but sometimes when I sleep at night
I cast off that technicality
and go back to when I was eight.
In retrofuturistic surreality
the Captain enters the stardate.
I anchor the craft and battle the wrath
of evil aliens cruel with strife.
I hope that before my human death
I'll have the cosmic ride of my life.
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