Having recently read the Martian Chronicles, this poem struck me as some of the thoughts of the settlers as they traveled from Earth:
Praying for arrival;
Illuminated by the stars.
where we want to harbor,
worlds away from where we started.
against the foreign soil
to which we now will call our home.
Our Mother Earth
is lost to human strife.
We see her now, a pale blue dot.
This poem was written in the form of an American Cinquain. I generally enjoy chaining them, or writing crown cinquains, but that didn’t fit as well with the subject that leaped from my fingers, tonight.