Through The Light Years

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Photography by Chrissy Ennist

We point our radio telescopes

Up into the heavens

Poking our ears into

The mufflers of galaxies

Hoping to find rhythm….of

The thumping imperceptible

Voodoo chant of God or

At least a steamy pagan planet

With a crack of ice gone liquid

A mosquito caught in flight

The scraping of a single cell

 

Are the days gone?….When

We used to look at the stars

Arranging light to fit our myths

Pulling them down to Earth

Making them into shapes

Improvising our reality…to fit

A romantic stroll under

Millions and billions of years

Funny,,,,,The word year

Is so damn human of us

Has always made me wonder

Who is shaping who?

 

No,

 

Sounds aren’t the only player.

We still watch

With screen and computation

At the gravitational tug

Between sun and satellite.

Rules are applied

We build theories, myths

Pulling the dance down to Earth

Hoping to find a solar system

Between creation and apocalypse

Where Zeus still throws lightning

Bolts with no worries attached

So, that we can continue

To shape the universe…and

Preserve our romantic stroll

Through the light years

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30 thoughts on “Through The Light Years”

  1. I was pulled into this poem immediately and my interest never waned. Delightful and entertaining. My favorite line is “Arranging light to fit our myths”. So true of so much.

    Like

  2. I love this. Were you thinking of the “chirp” scientists believe they heard in far away space? As long as there are poets (which will last as long as there is time) all the mysteries of space will live in myth and in science.

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  3. Yes, the chirp. Also the book Contact. And a couple of documentaries I’ve seen about astrophysicists searching for Earth-like planets by measuring how much gravitational pull they have on their sun.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. LIked this a great deal, particularly your notion that as humans we are ‘Arranging light to fit our myths… Pulling them down to Earth’

    Like

  5. we may see different faces as our minds go to different places , but the voices that we hear
    come from the stroll thru the night air

    Like

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