Y

The Ynsoleanos Cult
was rooted in the fiction
writing of Holoctuar Sel.

They saw the future
always brighter,
yearned for the good new years.

Of their number
there was a brilliant
biologist who perfected
a suspension technique
that preserved Hizad bodies
indefinitely.

They were outlawed
so their activities went
underground.

They carved tunnels in a remote asteroid
as a place where they could await
as many years as they wished.
Yenning for the glories ahead.

Some stayed for a century,
some two,
but most went for the long haul,
one millenia.

On the fateful day
they bulk first emerged to their
caverns layered
with a thousand years of dust
the signals yielded with
their communicators
were non existent.

Their smart computers
had passively received signals
through the years
but fewer as time went by.

None in the last three
hundred
and forty-six
years.

Others awoke.

The mumbling grew.
What was happening?

Soon all two
hundred
and sixty
were up.

Word spread quickly
of the deafening silence
outside their secret retreat.

Worry rippled and waxed thick
upon the revived.
Some Keened. Some yelped.

It took some time
for them to learn that they
had outlived a terrible wasting
away of their species.
And they were all that was left
of the once great and interstellar Hizad.

Some futures could
only
be found in yesteryears.

About tgrignon

I came I saw I rented the DVD
This entry was posted in Miscellany and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Y

  1. Pingback: Silly Poems with Terry | Golbing

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