Love existed until all the stars faded and all the atoms and even
black holes were recycled into radiation.
Here the ground gets shakier, the longer we walk on it, the more we
speculate. We are tired now.
More so, than the greater ones before us.
Yet,
yes, we can
ask these questions,
about our grandest environment.
As stunningly haphazard as patterns in the ice when a lake freezes,
we existed for each other.
I was not powerful enough to avoid stepping on an ant, a blade of grass
or to save your life.
I had let it go already.
Sorry.
We are given a rope to let it go. Childhood turns it briefly.
They took his life away, the old dog. They would have done the same
for her mother. He lost interest in everything, even walking.
At least they can die. We are not allowed to.
Love is as complex as a frog. A star is less complex.
I have loved you.
If only you knew, how I have quietly dedicated my life to you.
Colossal though I may be,
we are a rare combination of accidents and
this is a finite love.
The gentle surf retreats and is lost. Time is accountable to no one.
Here is the sudden and catastropic disappearance of the oceans,
where I was a solitary witness, to these dry and crackling shores.
In this odd climate, I found you.
I was always there to love you - once I was born.
People need love like their bodies need lust.
That is why it isn't presumptuous to aspire to understand them.
The last thing I saw was not my life, but what I couldn't preserve.
I love you madly. Is that so crazy?
I left it behind. Yet imagine, for instance, a universe
where love proliferated, was all.
Suppose you started with a single molecule, what sort of observer
must be invoked to
"bring such a universe into being?"
Those who truly love tell the most magnificent story.
This has happened for a long time and a long time ago. Our time began,
after everything in space was squeezed smaller than a golf ball.
Why do you love me today?
Is the deepest mystery of them all.
How can such claims be tested?
We do not know each other beyond the initial millisecond,
where theory becomes messy.
Love: a collision between particles, emission and absorption, and so on.
Our cosmic cycle may be finite. So how am I to live here?, I asked
a psychic at Paddington Markets. What am I to do in this life?
'Anything dangerous,' she said.
[Large] is [Love] whose light set out a long time ago.
Why is our universe so large without you?
Why indeed did atoms attune themselves to love, when each moment
is simply our turning away. Generations of stars have evolved and died.
We have cried bitterly at every good-bye.
We are the residuals of that era, often compassionate, broken-hearted and
merely terrestrial.
Try as I may to be there for you, I am truly sorry that
my love may cease like space. This won't happen until the stars have faded.
Published in Mudlark (USA).
