I don’t wanna think about it. Of what am I doing here…
My reason for being here, and what brought me here. Despite endless hurdles, I took whatever this extraterrestrial journey had to offer. I didn’t know why, I didn’t know how. Backtrack as I wanted to, I am already here, contemplating these quandary of sorts.
My mind is in its agonizing predicament to free itself from this comforting numbness, this deafening silence of empty space, brought about by such self-inflicted scientific but masochistic qualms.
I don’t wanna feel the guilt. Of remembering what became of me….
Predictions made were also meant to be out-ruled, time and again. Tried hard to go beyond metaphysics, more of what I can be. And in the whole process, I lost the old me. My belief of being greater than everybody was just an illusion, living in a parallel personal universe.
Ah, the moon and I grew apart. The distance got more than just physical. We never thought the gravity that kept us locked in place for so long was beginning to fade. Cosmic forces and all, it was eventually falling apart as our own sets of masses grew along.
We dared to go to the frontiers of space, more than just the confines of the Milky Way, not knowing we needed less. We wanted to conquer the edges of the universe, not conscious that we were betting everything on it, about to lose whatever little space we’ve got.
I don’t wanna feel the pain. Of remembering how it used to be…
Yes, we don’t have much but we don’t need much. We were dumb and simple beings, the earth and the moon, but life in this endless universe is what we wanted it to be. Our cyclical tides and molten core were like one. One was half and two was whole. Or what it once was.
In the midst of the never-ending display of thermo-nuclear reactions around us, here I found peace, in my own little small blue dot of a space. Indeed, in the bleakest of times, the moon provided hope for a brighter day ahead.
We just wanted a cosmic dream, the moon and I. To try to gain enough force to pull other little exo-planets into our own orbit, until they were ripe enough to create enough masses of their own. But as we try to reach for that dream, something, something worth more than just a silly thing died.
Now I had come to my own event horizon. What were left were moon scars and traces of cosmic dusts, and the aching sting of a broken celestial vow. And right now I just don’t wanna feel…