We stare into the heavens and see only spots.
We stare into the heavens and see only spots. We are unaware, unable to grasp in any real way, the swirling gasses and cosmic forces at work. We do not understand the movement of things that are speeding fast but to us standing still, fixed signposts of the universe, hurtling past each other on paths that change in relation to each other in slow motion time. How are we to talk about this, these tiny dots up there, these tiny dots that we are. The dust of it is what formed everything we know, the dust of it, swept up in things of immense scale or immense density, the largest form to us is an un-recreate-able perfection of vacuum absence, while the smallest particle can be packed so tightly as to contain everything, density is everything, how merged or un-merged we are, head of a pin with a mass greater than the sun. By the standards of the empty everything, a sparse collection of gasses is incredibly dense when there is nothing else for centuries of light, but to us they are vacuums more perfect than we can create. Time takes an incredibly long time to move objects that are holding still, but time is moving even what holds still. Every relative thing is shaken to its core and turned into something else. Every hollow thing can be filled, and every near thing will be far, dispersed and lost. For brief centuries and eons we are grouped in clusters, but the elements will act upon us, the unfathomable nearness of the universe will fill its every distant crevice, expanding the borders but losing the center. Every particle and mass is attracted by the collective gravity of everything else. To know how we were once connected we must run the movie backwards, to discern our original configurations and all of their potentials. This is how we learn how we are coming apart.