Celestial Spaces

Ugly Snowball

‘Do you love?’ I called through the Pillars of Creation.

None answered.

I’m a solar sailor who’s seen ancient come and go; the galactic plane’s just an eddying hamlet to me.

I ask the stars, ‘Do you love?’

‘I’m hot!!’ the self-obsessed fools gush, because they’re idolised by sycophantic, inert lumps orbiting them.

‘Do you love?’ I’ve called to nebulae, for aeons.

But, as yet, none reply.

My soul hosts only a cosmic wind.

The Second Tribe of Noah

I just wanted a decent death.
When Star Wormwood appeared, was part of me excited? Was this our Flood? I daresay…
Finally, something to trigger unification; a global communion.

The approaching celestial body terrified me, but when it stopped in LEO, was I disappointed?
Yes, I daresay.
Tides stayed regular, weather continued its inscrutable logic, but the star…
A star that rains down billions of AR-15s?
Did I see that coming?
I daren’t say…