For all of human history,

our lives have coalesced into two numbers and an en dash.

We have not transcended our mortality, not yet transhuman,

not yet mendable, not yet cryogenically frozen.

There will always be a birth and death, points

on cosmic life cycles held steady through the eons.

 

From a life marred by smallpox (1709–1745)

to a tranquil existence lasting through decades

of technological breakthroughs (1898–1984).

We will eventually jump back and forth between the blackness,

calling forth more numbers (2030–2050/2100–2176).

As if a children’s game, we become giddy

(2115–2130/2236–2289/2325–2402)

jumping higher

(2704–2993/15,547 Holocene–26,752 Anthropocene)

through galactic orbits (2.25M–4.72M/6.0M–9.2M)

and the Andromeda–Milky Way collision (17.5B–17.9B),

launching us skyward as our bodies and planets grow and age.

 

We will witness wonders unmatched by a single lifetime,

chasing Halley’s Comet across the sky.

Our ships will fly past the orbit of Pluto

as we watch great-great-grandchildren grow up

light-years away to eliminate age-old prejudices.

They will go on the journey of lifetimes,

costing nothing but the wisdom we impart.

A service to humanity like none other,

sleeping through years of turmoil

to come out

on the other side,

more aware

of our collective humanity

than before.