Once you were beloved

Once you were beloved.

The whole world watched,

not breathing,

as they waited to see

who would be the first

to have the honor of contact.

Who would get to touch you,

taking pieces back

to study

and marvel,

to hold places of honor

in museums and universities alike.

Does it hurt to hear

of your former friends,

the few who'd gotten so close,

as they pass on

in a way you never will?

Does it tear you apart

to see the same humanity

that once rushed to you in wonder

now screaming denials,

of hoaxes

and special effects?

Which hurt more,

the stabbing through your surface

as we tried to lay claim

to something so unclaimable

or the news that you would

never

be visited again?

Once you were beloved,

a beacon of hope

in a time without any.

Will you still be our beacon

though we've abandoned you?