The way that children endured,
by the cold glow of the winter.
A dove has silenced us again.
The sirens have grown distant.
The others have gone home,
grim-faced, empty-handed.
I remain at the helm of a ship,
of a civilisation as frail as gas.
I have been sent on a mission,
from which I shall not return.
It is lonelier than the last planet.
In this way, I am being built.