If the Sun
Were the size of a basketball
Sitting in L.A
The next closest
Nuclear furnace
Would be half a world away,
In Santiago, Chile.
Leagues of empty space,
Blackened cosmos.
Like droplets of rain,
Floating in an aetherous cloud.
We stare out of our bubble and wonder
What is there to be found?
If we are destined to empty space,
Falling upon empty planets around empty stars,
We are a singular flame
In a forest of midnight
That cannot be put out.
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 11:15 AM UTC
If the Sun
Were the size of a basketball
Sitting in L.A
The next closest
Nuclear furnace
Would be half a world away,
In Santiago, Chile.
Leagues of empty space,
Blackened cosmos.
Like droplets of rain,
Floating in an aetherous cloud.
We stare out of our bubble and wonder
What is there to be found?
If we are destined to empty space,
Falling upon empty planets around empty stars,
We are a singular flame
In a forest of midnight
That cannot be put out.
Request permission to use this poem