Soar

(Sunday, after dawn, the amateur astronomer awakens, and follows his stray thoughts from a dream.)

"Can our own mortal imagination sometimes serve as a mind exerciser, a workout of worldly wondrance, considering the parameters of reality?

My own aging pea-brain is too small to somehow contain the universe's hologram of vastness. I really need the expanding brain of space itself to comprehend the nature of the cosmos, the Face of God, which no one sees.

For example, the unimaginable distances in space, the basic concept of light years, a universe so vast that my bicameral thoughts must release to consider the physical possibility of such a limitless space, one that contains trillions of galaxies, innumerable stars like our sun.

The dimly weak human mind must flex as a muscle does to consider the embrace of space, how unfathomable and big everything is, how nanoscopic and insignificant we are among incomprehensible relationships.

The ubiquitous, two-sided tape of sticky gravity, invisible scaffolds we know only by observed effect, surrounding its suspended magic in a web of magnificant, majestic drama, with influence of shifting movement.

Giant, intricately choreographed interstellar ballets of crashing silent galaxies passing thru each other like massive barges of transparent ghost cargo: time, meaning vast distances again, the intrinsic persona of space, everything moving away from everything else in every direction, how can this be? The universal avoidance and repelling which becomes attracting and joining, forever into eternity?

My brain must challenge the limitation of its own physical structure to consider the non-binary  fabric of existance. Mission Impossible, worthy of trying nonetheless.

This is the exercise, merely to consider these physics, to let the mind out of its cage, upward and outward, and trust the higher value of the journey over its unknown destination: to let my thoughts soar from dream to dream."