What I learn from Orbit
Or how Mother leads by example
How is the Earth not bored? Earth has seen the same star for almost 5 billion years. Does Earth not wonder what it’s like to spin like Mars? Is the Earth never curious about the jewelry of Saturn?
I stopped wondering and asked her.
She smiled at my youth, my naivete. She told me the path is different every day. The time it takes is the same, roughly but she’s always on the move. She reminds me she’s on a constant path forward, expanding with an expanding cosmos. She reminds me that she’s changed her body more times and in more ways than she can count. That she’s believed in entire societies that I will never hear about. She tells me that she’s made it this long because she’s kept this ritual. This is her freedom, her tether. She’s not chained to the Sun, she’s freed by it. This grounds her.
The brief visitors of comets who obey no rituals see themselves burnt about. They live fast and die young. They make no true progress. They have no central drive. She tells me that the core of her and those around her is what gives them names. They tell a story about a comet, they write books about us.
What I see as sameness, she sees as discipline.
About the Creator
Tarik Murrell
A physicist learning to write.
I wrote a book! $10 and it's yours.
I want to eat from my writing. I feed it , so it can feed me.
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More stories from Tarik Murrell and writers in Poets and other communities.
And what do we say to the God of Death?
And what do we say to the god of death? We say thank you, Uncle, Father Time would have spent so many years lonely without you. Two titans of existence who do thankless and unenviable work. The little brother of the cosmos. He and my Mother -Earth, life itself – working together to balance every being I’ve ever loved and loathed.
By Tarik Murrell8 months ago in Poets
Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis6 days ago in Humans
Comments (1)
You have a really lovely collection of poetry here…. Why did you decide to share them only now?!