This is the Earth

Go outside.
Take a walk.
Find a warm and sun-light patch of grass.
Take your hand and plunge it in the ground.
Flex your fingers.
Take a breath.
Feel the dirt.
Hear wind inside the trees.

This is the Earth.
This is where you live.
Everyone you've ever known calls this place home.
This is the Earth.
This is your home.

Look at the Sun, but not too close.
All the life you've ever seen
at anytime in anyplace and anywhere became from this.
This is the Sun.
Brillant,
ever-rising,
one alone.

She is a Star.
A Star,
a point of light,
a strength beyond the bounds of comprehension,
so strong, and yet so all alone.
With all her fire, she sits so far from any sister
that a whisper lasts a life.
She burns alone.

She finds another,
they tangle in the dust of their embrace.
They dance, they fly,
they kiss, they die.
And they are one of many.
Gaseous seas and nurseries,
that they themselves can't see,
contain their beauty, their harmonies, their patterned skies.
They make a galaxy.

We passengers defined by our dependency,
we are a galaxy.
It's you and we.
We scar, evolve and grow,
our selves together tied until totality.

We age to one.
We cluster,
arms outstretched,
bound by silent rope,
endless, timeless, a signature of our own history.

And as far as we look in every direction,
no matter the distance, no matter the time:
the Universe.
All of it.
Everything.
All space, all time,
All knowledge, all intent,
All matter, all energy,
Every orientation and perspective,
All scales,
All measures,
All we will ever know,
All that can be known,
All knowing,
the Universe.

the Universe.



This is the Earth.
Everyone you know calls this place home.
Take a deep breath.
Look up.
This is the Earth.
This is your home.