𝘣𝘺 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘺
The dream dies on arrival.
For it’s reality that awaits the colonists.
The pioneering spirit is lost in bureaucracy,
in neighbors squabbling over property rights,
or the damage one kid’s pet gogabber
did to another’s garden bed.
Construction workers go on strike.
The roads are laced with potholes.
The air is thin and logistic issues
have delayed the transport of oxygen cylinders.
Politicians on Earth throw up their hands.
Nothing they can do to help the situation.
Politicians on the new planet
utilize their hands for fist fights in the council chamber.
Any thoughts of paradise
are gutted by everything from contract overruns
to unfriendly weather
to pushy locals with trinkets to sell.
The land is too rocky for agriculture.
Imports are expensive.
The beer is tasteless
And the drinking water’s dire.
Where they’ve come to
is a sad echo of what they’ve left behind.
There can be no future
when the past is still happening.