Over vastness it comes "We love you, you do it all for those you left. Go on going on, it all will come to rightness in the end." If who sent such message or successor ever reads reports we send 'd know we meet just litter on litter of dead messages telling dead explorers from dead species to keep going on going like us. Last should be first. I being last command "S/top, cease." No machine obeys.

This poem has previously appeared in XIZQUIL #12, '94, USA.