Let's workshop this poem that, using the metaphor of the Voyager spacecraft's golden records, contemplates the nature of speech and our collective identity within the grand tapestry of the cosmos
Voyager
We speak largely
to ourselves
when we speak—
and so even those
golden records, still
drilling into deep
space, speak largely
to earthlings: signaling
and so spurring
our hope, urging
us to reflect
on what it means
to be the nodes
in the grand wonder
that we are.
“We need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us.”—Kafka (against the safe-space cancel culture pushed by anti-art bullies, left and right).