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Spaghettification
Our
origin
started
with
stardust.
Only those foolish enough to believe one is superior to all will denote this truth. Life is full of few that embrace the inherit truths of human nature. Understanding and accommodation must call on more forgiveness and sympathy than feasibly possible. John Locke was right about me and all others. We are a product of our circumstances. Humans were once stars by the grace of gravity and the natural progression of time. In the night sky, my eyes still only every recognize Orion by his belt and long arms. It’s funny, how something “real” (plausibly fictitious) is more accepted than the whims of one to be called by their chosen name. As certainties of thought evolve, so does the possibility of a wildfire. (Cleansing.)
The
universe
is
expanding
outwards.
I am so much as a white dwarf is to plainly exist as a far-reaching forsythia, with its thin wispy tendrils outstretched skyward, is a constant in the list of go-to hideaways the eastern cottontail relies on when burrowing’s too difficult in the summer. A neutron star- small but dense and heavy (the result of a star’s collapse)- I am not presently, for things seem within my reach. I have not, yet, expanded in the fast and violent sense in which a small insect combusts and explodes after an overwhelming force is applied to the deadly sole. (It is the process of a supernova, in a way.) To get rid of the past, I
destroy. Without regard, I age and decay until I can no longer bottle everything up.
Ego
explodes,
I
lash
outwards.
It happens suddenly, like an ant stumbling upon a sand trap in the desert. The antlion appears harmless, but its jaws tell another tale. Similarly, I lie in wait harming those I know exponentially as time stands still. When others get drawn in only to become trapped with no way back, it is now that I realize. Despite trying my best, my presence cannot be undone. It seems all the lives I interact with can be separated into Before and After. I cannot let go or destroy the event horizon, because that it is all I know. The invisible threat of a fate far worse than death lies in me.
In
the
end,
I’m
weak.
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This poem is a take on myself and the life cycle of a star. It's honest. It can be read as a whole or just the bolded words. (Originally, the bolded words were at the start of each line.)