Back then they thought
that if the human race was doomed,
at least they'd be preserving
an archive of earthly sounds
on a gold-plated record
aboard the Voyager spacecraft,
like a message in a bottle
tossed into outer space
for extraterrestrials to discover
on the far shores of the universe
on a happier planet than ours,
these last traces of our lives:
beatings of a heart,
soft mwah of a mother's kiss,
sounds of wind, crashing surf
and falling rain,
footsteps and laughter,
the cry of a chimpanzee,
Bach's harmonies
and Mozart's melodies
and Chuck Berry singing
"Johnny B. Goode:"
Go go go Johnny go—
unfaded echoes
of our lost existence.