Space is flying through us, at the same thing that we’re flying through space. It’s all scale after all. A cosmos of lights, and glitter. Are we the ones ignoring the importance inside of us, or are we who think ourselves the real importance of the universe actually the least important by far, by light year strides? Sentient beings, things most ignored, not even able to be seen by other existences in the cosmos whom by sheer scale make our existence less profound than the fleeting thought in a dream, and just as short and ill-remembered. We are forgotten like those bodies and minds of our cells inside of us,…
Atoms explode and cause nuclear blasts, a human is born and in a far off distance years beyond a star dies and no one is the wiser. The sun roars in the event, it speaks of the many collective screamings of orgasms, the pleasure cries of the naturally emotional. How sweet the vigor inside of hearts is when placed against a reflection, where we can truly see ourselves whole like no where else.