the late writings

December 24, 2010

It’s 2:22 AM, early Friday morning and I felt the urge to write something about gravity and you. Here it is.

Did you pay attention when your physics teacher told you about gravity, back when we’re in high school? Apart from those regular and capital letters combined with sequence of seemingly random numbers, gravity is still one of my favorite subjects. It tells us about the invisible forces of attraction; about the required conditions in order for things to stay in place instead of annihillating each other or moving away indefinitely.

Now, here I am, an average, ordinary rock suspended in space. You’ll observe that I’m currently orbiting a brilliant marble planet. The gravity between me and the white planet, combined with my original straight path of motion, created this circular orbit. Now, there are a great number of great planets out there that I haven’t encountered, but planets like this marble one are rare. Marbles are exquisite, riddled with enchanting small details that you have to appreciate from nearby. They’re tough and cool to touch, even when the nearest star shine upon its surface hours after hours. However, when you orbit something, usually that means that’s where you’ll always be: you can’t go nearer. Going too near means a chance for crash landing and risking to scar its glimmering surface.

The only option is to go away and leave the orbit, but how can a small rock do it?
With the help of another planet, of course.

The big problem is, you weren’t one. You were tiny little rocks just as I was (and still am).

So, for quite a while, I gathered some space dust and try to make you bigger. Each speck of dust adds your mass, which in turn adds the gravity between us. Every time and everywhere we met, I tried to put the correct amount of dust to the correct location inside and outside your body and soul in my mind. I tried to polish your imperfections. You didn’t realize it, because I never wrote about this, haven’t I? You didn’t realize it, because you never viewed yourself as a space object, did you?

All these laws only applied on my galaxy. Yes, my own galaxy. My very own desperate dimension that never cease to construct hopes and fears into my own reality. The only language that I ever use on the only form of writings that I ever make.

Do you know one of my biggest worries right now? No, I’m not talking about the original topic of gravity. In the end, it’s just something natural. That’s the way it supposed to go. What I’m worried about is all these little scars from catching all those sharp space dusts and small rocks. What I’m worried about is what’s inside your head and heart, inside your molten core that I might never glimpse.

What I’m worried about is that
you’ll never know and care
on how hard it is
to create
us.

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