Poetry
We woke on a world far from home
On a planet that was not our own
We got guns and ships and knowledge to
But of The Outfitters hardly a clue
Some thought it Heaven
Some thought it Hell
Some had depression
Others aggression
Some went renegade
and ran from the fight
But most manned the barricades and did what was right
Now we stand against the Blue Skins
Drinking our gin
racking up sins
waiting to feel the warm winds of home again
So far from our globe
we hope to die on Gia’s stones and be covered in a sod robe.
But if we die in the deep darkness of space our body lost without a trace
Write our names on a stone
facing it east
so we can find some measure of peace
The Outfitters Universe 