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| The star that is the star is not there now. That was the star eons ago and can't be seen. What will be seen will be a star that will be seen eons from now. Where is that star? In some place of darkness. Of darkness. The When I see the star is not this time I see. I do not even see the sun, because light is slow and the sun has moved. I'll never know the progress of the sun. It does not matter the power of my scope. When I look through it I am blinded because I see into another time. I wish I could see the past, to the point time began: but I am blind. And deaf. The noise of creation dims beyond my hearing and no matter how strong my scope I cannot see how the heavens are now because all those stars may have winked out eons ago. The bangs of creation fall on deaf ears. O space is infinite, but I am in prison. I know nothing but the comic razor of my instant. What difference does liberation make in the cage of this body? What help is unshackled space when I am bound by infinity, condemned to time until I die? The threads to the stars hang in front of me. I will climb them. But they break. I will never know what water is because the threads all break! |
Steven Fortney
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