Earth

PLANET

It gets cold between the stars. Most of space is desert, dry and empty.

But there are, here and there, beads that glitter close to steady, gentle suns. And though these beads are born in fire and swim awash in death, they also shimmer with hope, with life.

Every now and then, as if such slender miracles weren’t enough, one of the little, spinning globes even awakens.

“^{_{I AM…}}” it declares, singing into the darkness, “^{_{I AM, I AM, I AM!}}”

To which the darkness has an answer, befitting any upstart.

“^{_{SO WHAT? BIG DEAL, BIG DEAL, BIG DEAL… SO WHAT?}}”

The latest little world-mind ponders this reply, considers it, and finally concludes, “^{_{SO EVEN THIS IS ONLY A BEGINNING?}}”

“_{^{SMART CHILD,}}” comes the only possible response. “_{^{YOU FIGURE IT OUT.}}”

Gaia spins on, silently contemplating what it means to be born into a sarcastic universe.

“^{_{WE’LL SEE ABOUT THIS,}}” she murmurs to herself, and like a striped kitten, purrs.

“^{_{WE SHALL SEE.}}”