The first line is a call for me to fucking sing, by which I mean write, and then my traditional opening non-sequitur, which clears the boards for deeper expression.
There is a gold mine in Africa, 14000+ feet deep, where they use ice-dams and sci-fi tech to keep the temperatures down there below the 143 degrees that normally exist. They're installing maglev elevators and chairlifts to decrease the 90 minute journey to the bottom. They all have emergency oxygen units, which I have termed 'oxboxes'. The whole concept weirds me out.
Then there is a reference to all the new earthlike planets they've discovered, the idea of growing vegetables in zero-G environments on the way there, and a suggestion of a little romance, which I will not expound upon.
Then there is a reference to my walking the dogs on a cold night, so cold that I worry about the 'Day After Tomorrow' super-cold tunnels in the atmosphere that freeze everything to crusty fragile diamond.
I then refer to the new scientific evidence that my particles are all coded to exist in this space, in this form, and that my code may be repeated on other very similar worlds in the vast reaches of the universe, and that the similarities in coding cause me to resonate with those who are similarly coded -- i.e., I feel their experiences somewhat, irregardless of distance. 'Unimaginables' -- I feel their strangeness, but cannot describe it. It's all the new quantum science stuff, which I am intensely interested in.
The last bit is my telling myself that my various troubles cannot prevent me from continuing to work on my novel, set in World War One, and the two main characters which I bring to life every night by writing about them. That's also quantum physics -- the idea that everything that can be imagined exists somewhere, in some universe. To me, they are alive, and I must finish this work, regardless of the day's turmoil.
So. There you have it.
I have never explained a poem before, Maraya1969. But I like the year 1969.
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