Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Full Spectrum

A field of stars swam past my eyes. If you’ve never been, its hard to describe. Poets have tried it. Better writers than me. No one can really seem to capture the essence of space. But make no mistake, it is astoundingly beautiful. Beautiful as the seas in the eyes of a 17th century sailor. Beautiful as a burning village to a conquering invader. Beautiful as a vial of crack to a 21st century whore. Harsh, eternal, lovely, and yet disinterested, unaffectionate, remote.

It’s an addictive beauty, and if I had to admit it, the one I would have knowingly chosen to be my last. I just wasn’t particularly ready for it yet. I thought my support line had been tethered, but somehow it hadn’t. Was it a malfunction, or was it my own unconscious suicidal nature? Moot at this point, I suppose.

As I slowly turned, the Eagle’s Head nebula swam into view. If you’ve never seen it, I suggest you Google it. It’s stunning, even in a photograph. As I watched, new suns swam into life, and I could see the birth of eternities. If I had to die, at least I could die here, in peace, beauty, and serenity.

I felt something nudge my ribs.

And then the space weasels came.


ArleneWKW said...

I love the line "Beautiful as a vial of crack to a 21st century whore." It sparkles and, in its context, surprises me. And space weasles, you've got to love them!

I've dreamed of my own death, the moment right before when I know that I'm going to die. I feel a sense of shock that the moment is really here, that there's nothing I can do about it. Your post reminds of that dream.

Anonymous said...

Hey Doosh Pigalow! Blog Much!?!

When's your next post, after the eruption of Etna?

Kim Ayres said...

Long time, no new post. Everything OK Asher?