Goutam Roy

  No Way Back Preserving civilization's ember across generations' endless arc, the giant fifty-eight-mile vessel— titan ark—sets sail  through star-deep dark, severing Earth's tethering spark birthing gravity's curving grace, nurturing green sustenance,  reclaiming each molecule's  murmured trace—of water,  air in sacred chase— enshrining tech-lore's vaulted space for sixteen generations bold,  this vessel drifts to worlds untold, crafting Eden's mirrored hold in interstellar void's grand fold. Two thousand dawns will drink the strange elixir of this wandering range, bidding adieu to Earth's prismatic shore— imbibing wisdom's nectar core to enrich our world forevermore. By Goutam Roy 

 Red Planet Reverie  In night's dream, the surrealist trespassed a red planet, watched endoparasitoid extraterrestrials— deep in rapt discussion.  Suddenly, the xenomorph cluster bolted toward the red-stone hill. At once, in the void's wild jockey, aliens pierced the planet's veil— descended fierce, no herald's cry, pulse rifles blazing hellfire trails.  Predatory beasts, with fangs agleam, recoiled from the electric storm; cosmic clash where shadows scream, invaders claim the savage form. The surrealist, astonished, gapes at the fierce fray of clashing kin— two species locked in savage shapes, pulse-fire scars where shadows spin.  He cloaks in vanishing jacket's hush, a phantom weave of ether's sigh, watches aliens seize the king-predator's crush, hoist the beast to starlit sky. They vanish—swallowed by their world's bend, perhaps to throne it in alien rite. He muses: the same grim custom trends on every orb in endless night. By  Goutam Roy