A/N: Usual disclaimers apply. The creation of the original plotline is credited to James Cameron. The show itself, Josh Friedman. The credit of the characters goes to both of these great men, depending on which character, and I also must credit the scriptwriters for building each character, other aspects of the show including, makeup, costumes, props and more, for making this world believable and also to the actors themselves for bringing these characters to life and helping form them into people that we have come to love and care for.

This originally began as a simple poem, but as I wrote it, it slowly evolved with more and more references to T:SCC into a poem that I would like to dedicate to a show, and an entire universe, that saw its end far too soon. I am, above all, a poet, and I hope you will enjoy this piece of my heart and mind.


Maybe, This Is It

The thought, the emotion that keeps you alive.

The power that fuels your life and soul.

The strength that fills your heart and hands.

The script that exists to define your role.

A yearning that grasps you by your heart.

Electrical impulses that your nerves cannot understand.

Wires that you grasp and are lifted from the ground.

The sheet of parachute that allows you to land.

Bullets only pierce skin. Bones of metal withstand.

Shrapnel penetrates coltan, fragmentation, corruption.

Guided by ones and oh's. He doesn't know what to believe.

Machine with one operation. She said she felt sensation.

Explosive charges placed in your brain with prudence.

The press a button that can cause detonation.

To trust a person with possession of that button.

To believe that they won't press without contemplation.

To hold the golden heart that can determine one's existence.

To be blessed with the ability to destroy.

To be destined to become the Christ of the future.

If wishes were horses, then you must be Troy.

You say to yourself, out loud and silent, try to believe, "I'm just a boy."

Deep, deep inside, "She's just a girl." If you go beyond what you see.

Anything could be true, because there's "no fate but what we make."

But take a look around you and tell me, is this truly what you believe?

Maybe there's no escape. Maybe there's no choice.

Maybe this is all there is. Maybe none of this matters.

Everything comes with sacrifice, but why this?

Sometimes, you can only watch as your heart shatters.