🌌 THE COSMIC FLOYD VERSE — MASTER VERSION
🌌 THE COSMIC FLOYD VERSE — MASTER VERSION
By Scott L. (“The Sharpshooter”)
Pink Floyd’s got me to the wall,
and the whole room’s groovin’ —
like we slipped into a space room,
inside their UFO,
and they started steerin’
that distant ship,
takin’ me to outer space —
to that place they call space,
with asteroids tumblin’ through the dark,
comets shriekin’ with fire tails,
meteor showers hittin’ the void,
black holes twistin’ gravity,
warped time and fractured space —
yeah, man… the whole nine.
And right then, outta nowhere,
I see mushroom fields poppin’ up —
just appearin’,
well… just like mushrooms,
strange little worlds risin’
from the unseen cracks of the universe.
And far beyond that,
there’s a hill I can’t put my fingers on —
a shape I almost understand,
a thought right at the edge of meaning,
slippin’ out of reach
each time I try to hold it.
And the singer —
somehow, somewhere —
has just become
comfortably numb.
And then we go,
like the next breath after his,
slippin’ right into it —
comfortably numb
together.
🚀 THE DESCENT
And the ship begins to fall silent,
not all at once,
but like someone slowly dimming
the lights of the universe.
Colors fade back into the void,
the engines drop to a warm hum,
and gravity tugs at our boots
like an old friend we almost forgot.
The blue curve of Earth rises up,
steady and familiar,
and the ship lowers itself
through cloud and quiet.
Then the landing gear touches down —
soft, certain —
and there’s no need for a ramp,
no steps,
no doors unfolding.
We’re lifted,
weightless,
carried on a hush of light
and lowered to the Earth
like feathers touchin’ ground
after a long drift
and twirling through space,
and coming back again.
And just like that,
we’re home
safe and sound.
🌀 EPILOGUE — THE QUIET AFTER THE STARS
And as the dust settles
and the engines cool,
I look around
at the same old world
that somehow doesn’t feel
quite the same.
Because once you’ve drifted
through asteroid fields,
once you’ve stared down black holes
and felt time twist around you,
once you’ve floated
comfortably numb
with the singer himself…
…you don’t come back untouched.
You carry a light
that isn’t from this world,
and a stillness
you can’t explain.
A memory of colors
that don’t exist here,
and a silence
that means more
than noise ever did.
And long after the ship is gone,
long after the music fades,
you feel it —
in the soles of your feet,
in the weight of your breath,
in the quiet spaces
between thoughts.
A softness.
A hum.
A reminder
that for one wandering moment,
we went farther
than the mind can map…
…and somehow,
we made it home again.
🌎
