Young Alien Type
Bluelighter
The ground is moving, and I'm standing still.
Looking up at the night sky, I feel so small. I'm awestruck at the stars, how light moves through nothing from millions of miles away to such a small spot on my retina. I hold my finger up in front of my face, and realize I must be obstructing billions of miles from my view.
I want to become part of the eternal 'always', but I know that I'm just another person looking to be remembered. How can something as intangible as "I" survive out here?
That star's moving. An Aeroplane. I think of the people up there in the sky. One-hundred other stories, one-hundred other lives, one hunderd other "I"s who wish for the same things. They're moving standing still, too; and soon they'll be where they're going. To touch the poeple they touch, and feel the things that they feel. Does it even feel the same to them?
The ground is moving, and I'm standing still. I was a few miles to my right a few hours ago, and I'm coming up on where I was yesterday. Everything's moving, and it can never stop. We can not be still for just one second.
I realize the star I'm staring at (the one next to the Aeroplane) might not even be where it's at right now. It could be over there, or it could be plummeting through nothingness, waiting to bounce off of another star into a planet... A silly metaphor for people, really. We wouldn't know if a person is plummeting because all we're looking at is something that we're used to seeing; Something that might have been gone a long time ago.
We rely too much on our eyes. We rely too much on the laws of reality, which are our own creation in the first place.
I want to become part of the eternal 'always', but how can something as intangible as "I" survive out here- Moving constantly through nothing, immersed in a sea of other fragile "I's (who are too reliant on their eyes), racing our star to see who plummets first.
The ground is still moving.
Looking up at the night sky, I feel so small. I'm awestruck at the stars, how light moves through nothing from millions of miles away to such a small spot on my retina. I hold my finger up in front of my face, and realize I must be obstructing billions of miles from my view.
I want to become part of the eternal 'always', but I know that I'm just another person looking to be remembered. How can something as intangible as "I" survive out here?
That star's moving. An Aeroplane. I think of the people up there in the sky. One-hundred other stories, one-hundred other lives, one hunderd other "I"s who wish for the same things. They're moving standing still, too; and soon they'll be where they're going. To touch the poeple they touch, and feel the things that they feel. Does it even feel the same to them?
The ground is moving, and I'm standing still. I was a few miles to my right a few hours ago, and I'm coming up on where I was yesterday. Everything's moving, and it can never stop. We can not be still for just one second.
I realize the star I'm staring at (the one next to the Aeroplane) might not even be where it's at right now. It could be over there, or it could be plummeting through nothingness, waiting to bounce off of another star into a planet... A silly metaphor for people, really. We wouldn't know if a person is plummeting because all we're looking at is something that we're used to seeing; Something that might have been gone a long time ago.
We rely too much on our eyes. We rely too much on the laws of reality, which are our own creation in the first place.
I want to become part of the eternal 'always', but how can something as intangible as "I" survive out here- Moving constantly through nothing, immersed in a sea of other fragile "I's (who are too reliant on their eyes), racing our star to see who plummets first.
The ground is still moving.
