The Epitaph of Voyager One

Lizard fingers grapple with gold; 

sparkling in the pale blue sun;

thin vinyl messages, indistinct, unclear...

the epitaph of Voyager One.

Our history imprinted forever, 

in the vain hope they would have any idea for

instructions, easy for a baby, alien notwithstanding; 

let’s hope they have an ear

for Mozart, and his symphony 

does not spark Independence Day. 

Gold disc of human beings - top of the pops. 

A dummies guide to Earth circa 1979. 

How we have changed.  

How little; still we war with ourselves  

and call it civil. Still we threaten 

with men who care nothing for the stars. 

If aliens form a mouth, how they would laugh and 

eulogise the emptiness of humans.  

One gold disc; some assembly required. 

Can you understand our offering to the universe? 

Let’s hope they are intelligent enough 

to unpack Ikea.