The Earth was lost. The desperate devised a plan, a grand project for the milleniums possibly. They escaped to moon, to wait ’til Earth could once be home again.
Under the Crust of Moon were huge rows of caskets. Scientist, Engineers, Future farmers and the last hope of humanity, sleeping. In their dreams they sleep with the moon. Ancient sphere orbiting another sphere. That of sorrow, loss, yearning, future Promised Land.
Now it was his turn to go back under. He had been awake to oversee some of the terraforming plans and work rotas, before that he was in stasis for a decade.
He felt an existential dread as he walked into the see-through stasis casket, the door closing. Then he found the dream. He found the calm of moon, its calm walk above the now red-ashen planet as he fell asleep for centuries.
Written totally for and inspired by the prompt at prose night in https://dversepoets.com/2020/09/14/prosery-monday-moonbeams-and-moon-dreams/