Four years ago, FWPhys began with this poem, which I am reproducing below with minor changes and updates.
It’s been a ride. Wondrous moments of life and reality once found their places here. Perhaps no more. Perhaps for the better.
Somethings aren’t supposed to be so easily and randomly showcased, after all.
— Your favorite galactic weatherman.
Before the sea,
we were voyagers to the infinite.
Voyagers to the edge,
where an ocean extended its boundary,
just for us;
…voyagers to every sight,
to every span of land.
Legends there awaited:
Everything in motion
teemed with emotion.
Under the sky,
we were voyagers to the unknown.
Voyagers to new worlds,
where someone browsed the constellations,
just like us;
…voyagers to every life,
to every fabric of thought.
Lives thrived in mysteries:
Now and then,
we felt lost no more.
Travelling on a beam of light,
we saw gravity
unraveling from the calculations,
delineating the histories of history itself.
We started to think about,
beyond any imagination.
I ran into this picture once too often:
across voids of space and time,
Too loud were the stories.
Too bright were the colors.
We were small.
Time was short.
Nowhere we now see can we ever approach.
Nowhere we’ll end up can now be seen.
Busy for another answer,
the world leaves the help we sought nowhere to find.
Beyond the tales,
we are voyagers to the present.
Voyagers to realities
where a world longed for its tomorrow
just with us.
Voyagers to every detail
in the meandering stream of time,
Fantastic experiences outside your books.
Everything in your dreams
comes back into your mind again.