Meadows of the Motherland, your farmers ashes sown by fallen stars, bear mankind another strand of unearthly dreamings grown from earthly scars. k**ers all! he cried, flames clawing at his throat through melted fore. Hands jut from stygian tide upon the ferrymans boat, dashed on the shore. Shrieks of the atmosphere deafened the engineer, vessel now commandeered by twisted chute. Thoughts to his warnings spurned, promised a safe return, Brezhnevs plan unconcerned by wild fears voiced by a mute. Call to grieving wife, family left below. Government strife: father in thrall. His daughters grin while playing in the snow. Solar panels undeployed. Radio channels, lost in void. Foretold to fail, rode on a stallion pale. Orbit nineteen, ordered home. Blue and the green, roads to Rome. Orientation from the sun, ion propulsion manually run. Halt the second launch, thunder from the squall. Future blood staunched, rains blessed fault: three crewmen spared their companions fall. The calm of space. Aurora Borealis, fire of spirits pa**ed, to cleanse of human malice mans rise into the vast. Burn, burn the ties that bind mortals to this terrene rind. Yearn, yearn to part the skies, upon an ark of sullen eyes. He cursed the dust that bore him -- screaming -- ba*tard child abandoned to the clouds. Compost for the Kremlin Wall, fed to blooms on Lenins grave Marvel as we heroes crawl to our d**hs so brave! said Yuri to solemn friend. Soyuz will be a martyrs end. You cannot die in my stead, he replied. You bring the Moon. He turned, hiding tears hed shed, and walked to his tomb. Gagarin unsheathed his cross, and prayed to sway a brothers loss. This too shall pa**. In bygone meadows of the Motherland a laborer boy studies planes gone by. The unearthly dreamings of a farmhand to pluck the planets from a fertile sky.