"There is a fundamental reason why we look at the sky with wonder and longing—for the same reason that we stand, hour after hour, gazing at the distant swell of the open ocean. There is something like an ancient wisdom, encoded and tucked away in our DNA, that knows its point of origin as surely as a salmon knows its creek. Intellectually, we may not want to return there, but the genes know, and long for their origins—their home in the salty depths. But if the seas are our immediate source, the penultimate source is certainly the heavens… The spectacular truth is—and this is something that your DNA has known all along—the very atoms of your body—the iron, calcium, phosphorus, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and on and on—were initially forged in long-dead stars. This is why, when you stand outside under a moonless, country sky, you feel some ineffable tugging at your innards. We are star stuff. Keep looking up."
▼ Neil de Grasse Tyson
(Source: nguyen-hoang-huy, via locomotives)
My city’s still breathing - but barely, it’s true - by buildings gone missing like teeth. The sidewalks are watching me think about you, sparkled with broken glass. I’m back with scars to show; back with the streets I know will never take me anywhere but here. The stain in the carpet, this drink in my hand; these strangers whose faces I know. We meet here for our dress rehearsal to say, “I wanted it this way”. Wait for the year to drown. Spring forward, fall back down. I’m trying not to wonder where you are. All this time lingers, undefined. Someone choose who’s left and who’s leaving. Memory will rust and erode into lists of all that you gave me: a blanket, some matches, this pain in my chest: the best parts of lonely. Duct tape and sautered wires; new words for old desires; and every birthday card I threw away. I wait in 4/4 time. Count yellow highway lines that you’re relying on to lead you home.