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15 min doodle.

there is a common poetry suggesting
that atoms and stardust are 
born of the same expanding urge
and will one day contract
returning to the same center
where they began

(everything that rises must also fall;
for every action there is an equal
and opposite reaction;
the rules are explicit, even

just as all atoms have orbits
and all galaxies a nucleus
and all gravities a center
and all bodies a heart.

perhaps the air we breathe in the night
is the ash we held in our hands
and beyond the event horizon
of any black hole
from which no light ever escapes
is the same sequential solace as loss

(but it is not home
in the same sense as sand dunes
and sunsets are home. eventually,
the absence of matter
is what matters most,

the distance between planets, and
the places where those planets
have been. it slips through our fingers, so
we open our hands.)

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