I rode the nightmare past the starry spit
Of galaxies that curl like one huge shroud,
Beyond a lone though monumental cloud
Where ancient starships in the darkness sit,
One crew, long ghosts, though yet they still commit
Those passions and those duties long avowed
To their captain imperially proud
That in their deaths no rest he will permit.
So as I pass I mark that rusted bulk
Its ghostly lights glow deep with the ship,
Its once sleek hull now just a vented hulk
Moves slowly through the dust where it will slip,
So long from home, and yet, again, so far,
Into this dark and nearby neutron star.