Sometimes I think of not-so-distant future,
What it will be like, the thought of this I nurture,
And then contrive the cities in the sky
And people that can easily to fly
All by themselves, no plane nor highway-tube
Knotted in the involute death-loop;
No death, no afterlife, nothing at all
For science of that time them made a-whole;
The colonies on Mars and distant quadrants
At nearest stars united in a cadence
As if a thread connecting all the knots
The system of a stations on a spot
And to another jumping, to the next
The metal and the sterile floating nest;
For ‘tis well known what Earth is but a cradle
Humanity supposed to leave forever