FINE-TUNING

Voyager is inseminating the universe

as I am not being consumed by the fear of death.

In the tiny memory of its mechanical form

takes place a metaphysical transaction

between the improbability of my immortality

and the information of my fertility.

Thus my being alive is transformed

into the promise of an eternal compromise

between a warm machine and a cold depth of space,

leading, perhaps, to a more abstract mortality,

crowned by a touch of a spotless affection

and temporarily transported through the realm

of an almost non-illusory hope.