Stuck on this cosmic ride,

Unable to hitch another ride,

Thumb fell off back around quadrant 33,

Now were somewhere on the 8-20,

Quick to discount our Gia,

For her magnificent speed,

Oh what a fool I’ve been,

This pure bread mustang Earth,

Driving about with Porsha like gods,

Radiating their presence throughout,

Space and time continuum,

Wormholes pulsing, as they dig cosmic highways,

As we speed to and from no-where,

Stuck in the cosmic car pool lane,

Gawking at our universal reality.

Oh, those Trekie Saints,

The burning of exploration searing their hearts,

Tugging them forward,

Distant stars await,

As they hitch their cosmic thumb,

On a hope of seeing Mar’s someday,

Stuck between a hitch and government funded ride,

They fuel their desires with illusions,

As our Milky Way continues on,

With no care for man or dust,

Soaking it into planet and star crust,

Shining bright, hoping their fame might break free,

Of cosmic, dull black, reality.