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A Few Short Words

Dense Not Thick

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Universe

Function

I keep thinking that I matter and get devastated when I don’t. I look at the stars and they say nothing to me, barely twinkle, and I realise I’m just as dead to them as their light to me. Years before I was nothing but genetic potential, years hence I’ll be naught but dust, lucky to be growing flowers from a grave. What is the use of feeling futility, why experience it or anything at all if we are simply the universe’s iterative expression of self. I keep thinking that I matter and it’s this that brings me pain.

Constellation

Two stars collide in the centre of the universe, bow and step aside. Vagrant celestial solipsists, galaxies once so divided, now dance. In their orbits they pay homage, flung wide on vast elliptical trajectories that seperate and reconnect at predictable interstices with macrocosmic implications and minuscule variations. In this way, over time, they waltz through space, ever connected by merged purpose but coexisting merely in vicinity. Such sadly joyous manoeuvres have wrought lust and longing upon ageless energies and countless lives, leaving nebulous wakes and vast black lakes of antimatter demarcated by absences. Two stars collide with burning desire.

Anima

At turns crying and laughing, sweetly embracing, sharing saccharine saline and saliva, relief and disbelief, utter joy and the exquisite agony of existence. At some point we stop being merely ourselves. We expand and dissolve, slipping between the atoms of the universe into something seraphic. She licks my tears and declares them ambrosia. I trace the inside of her soul and graze the contours of Gaia. We regress into evolution, animal and archaic, exponentially experiential, presently intense yet stretched from creation to cataclysm, living outside of chronology. We laugh with each other, cry, sigh, and realise who we are.

Matters

I feel her hand on my shoulder, incalculable aeons of stardust settling. You should be working, a whisper. ‘I was daydreaming about you,’ I say. Only the day? A solar echo. That seems restrictive. Her laughter spools out, universally intertwining light and sound, gravitational waves and electromagnetism. Every move she makes causes an affect. ‘I wish you were here,’ I say, finding myself laughing. It took so long to parse, with nothing but theory until I’d felt the physics. I reach through space to take our hand and her voice is mine, ‘Even when I’m not there—’ I’m here.

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