And the universe so rabid for release, so reaching – so thrusting in every direction. Expanding and inflating like balloons in love with the act of existing. Dark matter so heavenly and attractive – pulling and prodding at every atom’s tight skirt. Love, this fire-breathing universe; this wild cosmic egg exploding. Are we still exploding, big bang of origin? Will we ever be anything other than explosions in the night?
Hope, or something like it, drags me towards gravity like the ancient light of the cosmic microwave radiation. Keep me in this vibrant soup of protons, I am only a part of you if you remember. Don’t forget that ancient first breath. But is it really ancient if the light is still bouncing around us? Is it rather, more beautifully – ever present. The ever present beginning and end, universe after universe – all things altogether. Everything so peacefully violent; grandiose; full of light and shadows.

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