Where will I be
In 2043....
I mean the remains of me,
Once the rods and orbs and whorls and worms
Have done their duty
And reduced me
To bits of bone and brittle strands of white hair.
No friend of entropy,
I'd like to think I lifted poppies or a redwood tree,
Gave back life as I was given.
No, make that know, not think,
For I have that much coming, knowing
I was not a waste, a dead ending.
I would like to serve a greater purpose,
Beg to be of some further use,
On earth if I must, anywhere,
But preferably out there,
On the road to infinity,
My star stuff sentient still,
My small and willing mind intact,
Able as I go to wonder what it's all about,
And know I'll likely never know
Even the questions to the answers.
At what price you ask.
Okay. I agree to exile,
The supernumerary sent packing,
Like some inept cosmic clown of low degree
Sent to herd and count neutrinos in the far out there.
But if I prove out, bring me back.
Let me shield the weak force,
Lend my shoulder to the strong,
Monitor monopoles for proton decay
Even though I know no monopole has been found,
No proton has decayed.
I just want to be of use.
Should I really please you or yous,
Reward me with a post
Near the center of things,
Even cleaning the cosmic can,
So I might eavesdrop on future plans
And where it all began
And how and why I figure
In this starry dream of things entire,
Though the least response be too much for me,
Fall beyond my ken,Just keep me around anyway to dust
The dark matter no one ever sees.
Let me tell you when I no longer wish to wonder.
You owe me that.
I've only asked to serve.
—Larry L. Meyer
Summer of 1987
Photo by Molly Margaret Meyer.