On every channel, station, page,
bold headlines herald likely ends
to Earth by way of asteroid
they calculate will punctuate
our Cenozoic sentence as
a period come late through space
to terminate our human race.

But only you could do that well,
completing all my lines of thought
whenever words would fail my mind.
Now, past the moon, I start to find
some ironies within this fix,
when finally our love takes wing
there's small time left for us to sing.

Accelerating by the sun
on this mission most write off,
my last transmission beaming back
out toward a world hung by a thread.
All sorts of questions rush my head.
Oh, did I speak of love enough?
I concentrate, but, Lord, it's tough.

As sure these stars will watch me burn
and I must face my final turn,
I think of us again and learn
how fortunate we were to bond
in this cosmos grown beyond
all history and mystery.
Within this void, it's you I see.

My target rock grows dot to dash
and gauges say I'm good to crash.
Within me, nations, futures, pasts,
the billions wishing goodness lasts.
But most of all I carry you
and hope this bittersweet adieu
gets back to you and pulls you through.

About me, blazing blaring lights:
blue red sparkles recount nights
late fireworks ignite July.
How fast we danced then, you and I,
devoured life to gratify
that sense this never lasts too long
just like the lyrics of our song.