Desolation is an understatement.
You got your wish,
having entirely forgotten the old saying:
Be careful of what you wish for: you might just get it.
On the alien terrain you now stand,
the crescent Saturn and its glorious rings are rising on the horizon,
in the background of the deep dark blackness of space.
Deep dark loneliness is now your company,
A just reward for your incessant complaint:
of living in a place with too many people.
Gone is the noise you hated and complained,
the silence now is deafening.
You look around the alien terrain
and wonder is there life here.
How you wish you could share this experience with someone.
But hark, you hear something,
a low whirr mumbling.
You run across the alien rock plain of small and big stones,
and behind a large rock
you see a spacecraft
completely alien
its door
opening
revealing
a
figure,
eyes
capture
yours,
cannot
move,
frozen,
the
alien,
looks
like
.
.
.
.
.
.
DAVID BOWIE!!!
You float on board his spacecraft,
involuntarily,
abducted!
You got your wish again!
Too bad, so sad.