We do not know what is happening at the moment farther away in the universe: the light that we see from distant galaxies left them millions of years ago. When we look at the universe, we are seeing it as it was in the past. We look up at the stars, the beauty of lights as they go out. The sun is collapsing in on itself and emitting the only hope we have of survival; we bask in the death of something we would die without.
We have one chance to live, yet feed off death. We all share the same sun, the same sky. We are all faced with a sense of irrelevance.
How can we be a part of something bigger when we are smaller than ever?
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 6:02 PM UTC
We do not know what is happening at the moment farther away in the universe: the light that we see from distant galaxies left them millions of years ago. When we look at the universe, we are seeing it as it was in the past. We look up at the stars, the beauty of lights as they go out. The sun is collapsing in on itself and emitting the only hope we have of survival; we bask in the death of something we would die without.
We have one chance to live, yet feed off death. We all share the same sun, the same sky. We are all faced with a sense of irrelevance.
How can we be a part of something bigger when we are smaller than ever?
This isn't really a poem, it's the abscent minded musings of a less than average teenager who has spent the whole evening reading A Brief History of Time. Soz.
