Dark the fabric of space and time,
Dark the dreamless sleep,
Silent the lonely corridors and gangways
Of the desolate Virago craft.

Icy, glitters ancient starlight,
Icy, on consoles dark and mute.
Cold as death the intersteller spaces
Where brave Virago makes her flight.

No soul walks her ancient walkways,
No soul talks the ancient talk,
Deep within their frozen catacombs,
Silent, sleeps the Virago's crew.

Behind her only death and weeping,
Before her only loss of hope,
Space is vast, ever welcoming,
Virago keeps her course on True.

Far in the depths of Virago's belly,
Far from the burn and flare of the stars,
With her loyal crew for company,
Lies the Captain, all her dreaming done.

Once her body strong and vital.
Once her gaze calm and true,
Now she lies, fallen pale, in the darkness,
Sweet memory of Earth, withered and gone.

No one sees her bitter expression,
No one sees her frozen tear.
Grasped to her breast a tattered token,
A teddy with a missing ear.

No more will she taste those gentle fingers,
No more will she hear that childish laugh.
What was, in memory still lingers.
All has been dust for a thousand year.

Time has no meaning for the brave Virago,
Time is a memory, a thing of the past.
As she speeds through the spinning Universe,
Nothing, not even Eternity, can last.

Bright the flash of alien starlight,
Bright the vanquish of the ancient dark.
Cold desires stir and waken,
Virago's wonderings soon be past.


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