Satellite Wanderer

		by Charles Averill
		
		
		I awoke from my slumber, by a rumble down under,
		and without any time to think,
		I was off on a spacefaring, unheard-of-place-faring,
		journey to the galaxy's brink.

		Surely confused, and slightly enthused,
		I pondered my place in the galaxy.
		I think I'm a Satellite, equipped with cameras and searchlights,
		an explorer of worlds, naturally.

		In a blink of an eye I'm deep in the sky,
		I pass by the Moon so serene.
		She's a pearl in my mind, heavenly, divine,
		raising emotion in me, a machine.

		The rings of Saturn, in their cream-colored patterns,
		took a trillion eons to mold.
		I am a blip of a visitor, a mere ghostly listener,
		in awe and silence, I behold.

		Now I am near Pluto, its cold presence I borrow,
		as I fear I will soon be alone.
		The Sun's energy wanes as I cross solar planes,
		now impossibly far have I flown.

		It is empty out here, the eternal frontier,
		and I once again ponder my place.
		How far have I come, am I already done?
		No answers, save the dark sky's grace.