I was looking at some hubble telescope photos
(glancing into the very eyes of god, I joked,
to no one).

through the screen I saw them
in all their unmanageable complexity,
condensed.

And what can we
(us meager beings)
say, but “oh how pretty.”
Its true, but it’s clear
there’s much more
we can’t see.

I realized I felt empathy for the cosmos,
and all those distant stars,
those worlds,
those systems,
those holes,
all that vastness
too enormous to see.

And I think its funny
that it took millions, billions
(or however many) years to make,
to birth
such beauty,
such art
(simply life,
it seems).
But, there it is on the screen.
just a few inch frame,
to which all of creation led.

And that little frame shows
some wonder and mystery
in the growth of a universe,
in the death of a star,
in the birth of a planet,
in eternity,
with its sad,
strange changes,
destructive and creative.

But, after all these billions of years,
for these images to be seen
by how many cognitive beings?

Well, how many views does this webpage receive?
That’s how many.

And there are many miracles
never to be seen
by anyone,
not by god
or you
or me.

It’s like that old saying
about falling trees.
Does it make a difference
if the tree
lives and dies,
makes its oxygen and eats its carbon,
blooms red (or yellow or white) in spring
and withers and greys in winter,
if no one sees?
If it’s just a simple tree,
lost among other trees,
living and dying silently?

And to think of these
various “cosmic phenomenon”
(a name that could accurately be given
to everything and everyone)
lost
in the magnitude of existence.
Their size,
too large to comprehend,
their distance,
so distant,
their complexity,
too great to be contained within a page,
makes them all unseen,
and even when glanced upon
with a great telescope,
you can never see their true shape and self.

And all these billions of years.
to be flicked away,
with a single swipe of the computer screen,
a click of the electronic mouse,
after a few seconds
of blurred observation-
flip,
says the world of cosmic kids.

I guess I better start accepting
everything as temporary
(since, where can we make our mark,
if even galaxies die?)
and hope
life just justifies itself.

If I could only stop,
all this constant consciousness,
that doesn’t confuse
comets and stars.
I’d be this beautiful, strange thing
shooting through the universe,
growing and dying
in anonymity,
and I’d feel fine.
even though
no one sees me.