Today, we begin the dismantling of our pride and so much more
as the last shuttle weaves into the loom of the sky,
for NASA was a public commons of a most uncommon kind
where our imaginations journeyed free among the stars
for all to see and none to own, the wonders we discovered there
with launch upon launch to thrill us as it rumbled in our bones;
that took us to the shores of space and well beyond,
and let the curiosity of children play endlessly in its embrace;
where all might wander on that sheer expanse of wondering;
for NASA was a public commons of the mind that none
should ever own, where the wealth of what was kept
in that repository, stewarded for all to see,
belonged to all of humankind.

To step upon the moon, to glimpse the birthplace of the stars 
and far beyond; to watch amazed as telescope and island sky
made limitless those gifts delivered wondrous to our surprise.
All that was ours, and more, dearer us than precious life
and dearest of all,  an image taken from the shores of space
of that other public commons, concealed in a photograph
that NASA kept, until one of us compelled it to be shown;
an image all of us know well, a gown of blue-white mist
revealed as it shone upon the heavens, too;
a fragile globe that slept within the arms of space
that we then knew was all we'd ever know of home; 
the Whole Earth was ours to keep and hold or, to let it go 
should we insist dismantling it, piece by piece, as well.

Some wish to own what we now tear asunder, and insist
the marketplace and profit is the best that we can make of it;
that competition and invention are a private thing that only
their self-interest  can release; that progress isn't plunder
and what they do with what is left  is to our benefit. 
The best of us will hesitate, the looting of the public commons
is an art that those who practice it do well;  the worst
can only calculate, they cite "the bad economy" as reason,
and know the ways to profit from excuses. Even now
they claim that other public commons for themselves
and eye this little NASA prize among the spoils,
to strip her of her gown and lay her bare, and usher in
what may be the final season of her shine, for we've cut 
far more than fat, we're into bone and muscle now,
and what remains; but one bright moment left
before the window closes; "mission scrubbed."


Before the darkness drops and what once shone above
is gone; before the face of death lays heavy on her brow,
without tears, nor any witness to express what happened
where we stood and, dry-eyed, watched the crumbling edifice 
of human joy 'til nothing more  remained of it, and less of us;
before the final cut is made and all is lost, there is a moment
to stand up, in full possession of our own uncommon art,
and put between the knife and what remains, that one prize
that is ours and ours alone, what those who would wage war
on our imagination cannot dismantle, nor will they ever own;
a photo no one else can take but us, and from a place much further
than the furthest star, much closer than your eye is to this page;
a picture of the 'Whole Earth Heart', residing in ourselves,
and there unto the keeping of ourselves alone or, 
to give away.