Scientists Fear
scientists fear
with a hand on the window frame, you looked out at the night sky. & turning your head toward me, you said there was this theory about the universe being ever e x p a n d i n g.
that every star, planet, galaxy & blackhole currently alive, is endlessly drifting apart from it all.
as though in their hovering for distance, in their majestic swaying through stellar matter, every atom of the universe claimed independence from our shared existence.
that same night our last the spellbinding vibes in your beauty & that rant over the cosmos, walked me into a laberynth of oblivion; cause what i forgot to tell you & what you didn’t seem to know, was that there is another theory out there: an antithesis on the dynamics of the universe.
scientists suspect the universe will eventually stop its expansion to begin its c o n t r a c t i o n. exactly as the ball vertically thrown to reach the sky, that at a certain height surrenders to gravity & starts its way down.
scientists fear that every star & planet & galaxy & blackhole will shrink into a single spot in place & time. a sort of big bang in reverse. outside going in.
boom
which is to say: you fled away from me to smash piece by piece the things we had built. i guess in some shape or form we mimicked the universe by drifting away from each other; by sitting on opposite edges of this galaxy; dodging our own asteroids; breathing distant stardust & riding comets that might never cross paths.
imagine, just imagine that these scientists’ fear comes true & all we know to exist begins to compress; will the universe then bring us back to where we were?
a massive clash. gallactic friction.
cosmos to cosmos, blackhole to blackhole, planet to planet, & lips to lips.
hey, this might just be the universe reminding us that we are destined to collide.
- @skinthepoet
More Posts from Salinyay-blog and Others
Reading list for my travels through Italy: - War of the Foxes by Richard Siken - Life On Mars by Tracy K Smith (rereading it <3) - The New Testament by Jericho Brown - A Season In Hell by Arthur Rimbaud any suggestions?!!!
‘But, I love him.’ the Sea whispers to the Sun. ‘I know,’ The Sun replies. ‘But I’ve loved him longer. I loved him first.’
The Fall of Icarus - Commentary | p.d (via lostcap)
Writing requires discipline, but disciplined writers are not necessarily prolific. Most good work gets produced over time, sometimes many years, allowing the writer to grow with the material, to allow her world, her command over craft, and her psychological maturity to coalesce at just the right moment to produce something of value. This process often involves dreadful periods of not writing, or, worse, periods of writing very badly, embarrassingly badly. As time passes in a writing life, the writer learns not to fear these arid periods. The words come back eventually. That’s the real discipline: to train the mind and heart into believing that words come back. … Be willing to wait. In the meantime, write when you don’t feel like it. If you can’t write, read.
Monica Wood, The Pocket Muse (masculine pronouns changed to feminine)
I needed to hear this today.
(via savetheteaboy)
And again today.
(via one-bite-at-a-time)
(See also: the Law of Undulations)
“Port of Spain, 2002” by Olivia Gatwood. Check out Olivia’s impressive debut collection, New American Best Friend.
Sober like a face slap, obvious as the morning after, I saw you for what you are: a woman, cruel and imperfect, a fighter who tried everything to protect her one and only heart, how it didn’t matter, it was torn fresh from its root anyway
Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz, excerpt from Lilith (via theoryoflostthings)
I’ve finally accepted that maybe we just weren’t meant to be
Day 205 (via myonlywayoutofhere)
it goes too fast.
hi again, tumblr
Choose yourself. You deserve you.
I see you as a god / at the crossroads burning your secrets for lamplight.
Sade Murphy, from “self portrait: acetone and hesitance carved into linoleum,” published in Joint (via lifeinpoetry)
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