Cosmic Ink, or Major Tom's Soliloquy

Not enough out there in the same vein as Rocketman - Elton John, or Space Oddity - David Bowie. A piece about an astronaut, nervous and alone.

Floating in this vast expanse of star-shed cosmic dust,
Behold to none but gravity and sender's eggshell trust,
Constellation-bound, I sing of home as drifter must -
Assured home sings of me, as in forlorn farewell discussed.
How void-stemmed is this chorus if my ears it cannot reach?
Is sweet harmony thus muted by the planet's silent screech?
Does distance from blue-planet well-wished promised singing leach?
Or is windless sailor deaf to music coming from the beach?
Black doldrum, heavy, shrouds me in old cosmonaut's echo,
Begging solace bring them homebound, though return they would not know.
Faith in my own journey's end I don't pretend to show,
For though Earth shrinks in leaver's wake, no looming star does grow.

Author's Note

It's been a minute since I've been on here, but I like this poem. Outer space inspires me. Any opinions welcome.