PART 35

Raise your hand if you’re terrified by the fact that we’ve never been able to get to the center of our own planet. That unknown depth stirring below our feet. Dragons and molten lava and fallen angels with flaming wings screeching between giant stone discs the size of continents. It’s a rush hour that lasts for eternity down there and we have no idea what’s going on. We have no idea when it’s going to end. Maybe some sort of mass implosion will scatter both the surface and the depths across the nothingness. Or maybe it will end in a slow crawl. Millions of years of drying creek beds and colder seasons and daily extinctions. And the Earth becomes a fragile shell that gets picked away by cocky little astroids. And the remains scatter fearfully… expecting to never see each other again. Expecting to spend the rest of their existence longing for that feeling of purpose that comes with being a part of such a magnificent and complex collection that is a planet.

Of course, there is the chance of a black hole (the dark king of space) sweeping all the particles of the universe up at some point. Taking them/us all on a mystical ride of warped space and time and luck and odds and spitting them/us out on the other side. Whiteness. Clean. New. Mass Revelations. Immense Opportunity. And one shiver of life moves near another and they touch. And then another to another. And another to another. And here we go again.