The vast emptiness of space,
And the passage of time,
The void between an atom’s nucleus
And her orbiting particles,
The fact that we are made of elements
Forged in dying stars,
And, not to be forgotten,
The perplexing reality
That we are little more than empty space
Floating on a green and blue island
That somehow beat trillion-to-one odds
In a lifeless, desert void
Where the shadow-signals of our loneliness
Carve brave new trails through the darkness,
Only to fizzle out
And die like a match struck
In a lightless room,
There one second;
Gone the next.
I read somewhere that radio signals sent out into space degrade in a couple of dozen lightyears.
You can find more of my poetry at caitlincacciatore.wordpress.com
