Catepillar Skin
butterfly buff
intimidating no-thing
softening even
the sociopathic
one
oddly
paradise
remembered
with a flutter
trailing digits
among blooms
we are
we are lost
love is forgotten
in hedonistic haze
you count seven
pyrite-smelted coins
slipping
through space-time
your grip must be tight
your wings kept unfurled
to mine the material
in the gravitational
waves and wake
when the stellar
become too massive
it allows no light
to pass through
forgotten souls
drowning in desire
going
down the drain
mayday
horizon collision
surface level event
the next big bang
this time
I'll make it
awaken
enlighten
you were born a papillon
wrapped in caterpillar skin
but there is no flight
with your wings
gold-plated
give up the fire
release spent fuel
scatter your ore
manna for seedlings
stardust scaffold
radiate gentleness
nurture eternity
you were born a papillion
wrapped in caterpillar skin
but there is no flight
with your wings
gold-plated
A dear friend and I recently discussed the nature of stars. He is also a very gifted astronomer and presenter, inspiring just about everyone who has the privilege of hearing him speak about space. Despite all his wonderfulness, I had to pick a stellar bone with him ... to which he patiently withstood.
Many scientific types characterize white dwarfs in diminutive and dreadful terms. These torus-headed, universally miniscule, and oft-bespecked fleshlings have the nerve to call post-nova. small, to midsized stars ... dead. True, a white dwarf no longer fuses hydrogen into helium and heavier periodic elements, but it will continue to radiate heat and light for what might as well be eternity when to compared to the lifespan of a human, or even a solar system.
Compare the white dwarf to the largest of stars that will become cannibalistic black holes after collapsing under their own girth, still famished, selfishly consuming photons, and universe's fondest memories, into the blackest pit of existence.
From breathing fire, to eating light ... and these are the bodies we choose to gravitate about. Meanwhile, sitting beautifully, high up on a spacetime hill, the white dwarf's carbon will have been condensed to a diamond corona; radiating a comfortable heat. Any life that may arise about the transformed star need not worry about being scorched in a fiery teenage tantrum. Indeed, the white dwarf is matured and now nothing but the embodiment of love and nurture. She is, however, no drab matron. Her splendidness is surround by stunning, gossamer, nebulaic iridescence.
Calling all that eternal beauty and warmth ... dead. How very dare you?
No, the white dwarf is the butterfly to the tempestuous hungry caterpillar that was its fusing star. So enough fascination with the fiery damsels or heavy, dark dragons, too heavy for the net; reach for the dappled light in our spacetime garden. I'll meet you fluttering about the nebula as soon ... as I figure out these wormholes.
***
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If life is to be lived well, then spending time in a place with natural views will bring happiness.
Something to be done every day:)
Thats good.
I hope the pre-move is progressing smoothly.
Ditch Biden & Trump!
Vote for me 😃
OMG, Paul. So much to do. But also super exciting.
Haven’t seen ya around in a few weeks! Just saying what’s up 🙌
Hey Gene,
I am moving houses. So much work. I'll be.back in a week or two:)
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