© 1983 Don Simpson



Once there was a Ship of Stone

That orbited a mighty Star

And from it flew the First Ship's crew

Whose children we all are



And no matter how long we've drawn our track

Still over our shoulder looking back

Through the hydrogen's hiss and the methane's moan

Past the polymer clouds of the Dead Stars' shrouds

All our roads run back to the Ship of Stone





There the First Crew all were made

And wakened from unknowing sleep

By the boundless sight of Heaven's height

And the fires of the Deep



And no matter how strange the forms we wear

How warped and wild, how rich and rare

How changed we've made the seed we've sown

We are blood of those who, singing, rose

From the body of the Ship of Stone





And there our own ships' frames were formed

To grow blue-glowing wings

And spread them wide to the farthest tide

Where the last lone beacon sings



And no matter how tight the net they knot

Of our web where the Wheel of Light is caught

How strange and lost, how grand they've grown

They, too, desire all Heaven's fire

Our comrades since the Ship of Stone





Once there was a Ship of Stone

Clear domed, broad hulled and clean

Where the air shown blue, through whose holds birds flew

And whose decks were growing green



And no matter odd these things may seem

As madly mazed as shards of dream

They are not a dream that you dream alone

All ships, all men, are of one kin

We shall not forget the Ship of Stone.