Kyu Kyu Thein |
I think about how unforgiving space is.
How we give her so much
and she proves again and again
of how cold-hearted she is.
She tells us nothing about herself.
Her past, her present, her future,
everything we know about her
is what we find out on our own.
And when she finally gets back to us,
it’s a little too late.
A hundred light years
have already passed us by.
The lives we have lost,
the dreams she has stolen,
the hopes that we had,
like she could care any less.
And yet, for some reason,
we still find ourselves
launching another rocket
into the atmosphere.
Because through all the mixed signals
she leaves for us in the stars,
maybe she just wants someone
to finally understand her.
To make sense of her nebula nonsense,
to feel her cold arms and let her hug them,
to come into her atmosphere and stay this time.
But how will we ever know
what she really wants?
Nature has not been kind enough
to grant her the same language as humans.
As we stare out into the night sky,
I wonder if she stares back
and searches for any sign
that she’s truly not alone.