Poetry is not my thing. And so these thoughts that I wish I could put into pretty verse are going to be poured out in a mess of prose.
Supernova is the term given to the star who is in the process of dying. We’ve some how idolized it into a pretty term closely linked to love a lot of the time. But its a star being ripped in the same way a nuclear bomb explodes. The juxtaposition of supernovae and nuclear bombs is a pretty concept to me.
Also is the fact that ninety-five percent of the universe is made up of dark matter and dark energy. They’re dark not because they’re evil but because we don’t understand them at all. A lot of the problem is the only reason we know dark matter even exists is because it reacts with light a certain way and the only reason we know dark energy exists is the galaxy keeps expanding faster. But we can’t actually see or measure it but by displacement. It’s pretty humbling to think that we only know 5 percent of what everything is made of.
And that reminded me of chemistry. People are mostly empty space with atoms spaced out nicely through us. But mostly empty space is what everything is made of.
And for some reason this all sounded very poetic to me. But I can’t even figure out which syllables are stressed in my name or any other word and all my rhymes are forced like a five year old just discovering the concept. So there it is.