I remember a day when the Earth seemed to stand still. It slowly rotated before my eyes so that I could see it all. Magnificent endless oceans and a single mass of rock. I gazed as the mass of land trembled and broke apart forming geodecent patterns across the surface. Foliage grew across these great continents and the clouds began to form. Ages passed as this orb seemed to dwarf even me. We almost became one as it turned below me while I slowly danced around it. Storms raged and I watched this ball of life erupt into life. Its peculiar rotation seemed to gain speed until a great celestial object silenced it once more.
My neighbor and friend slowed to an almost painfully boring pace. White ice and snow covered much of its surface as if it was as dead as my own surface. Ages wore on until a strange little species began to inherit its face. Turmoil and suffering once again returned the sphere to its normal speed and I again became one with my old friend. I smiled for centuries until one day.
I woke to a startling flash on a single hook-shaped island. It was as if the sun had invaded this tiny speck of green. I had gotten used to seeing flicks of light sparkle its dark side, but nothing like this. It was if the sun had rose and set all at once. Ever since that day, the ball before me has begun to spin out of control. We are no longer in sync. Perpetually in motion, I can barely see what is happening before me. Continents blurred into oceans. I continued my dance, but it is as if my partner has lost the beat. My grasp on her oceans had been reduced to a mere graze.
Then one day it stopped.
I could only see one half of my former love. Across her broad masses of land I could see the being I once watched smeared across her like a thin layer of strawberry jam. The lights had been extinguished. She was pulling me in, as if to destroy me as those beings had destroyed her. I felt my face dip into her cool oceans, as it had once before, but I knew it was over. It was a last kiss of a dead planet, and I knew I must leave.
26 February 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment