Magnitude

A drop of honey dew on a leaf, glinting merrily,

each ray lustrous, sprinkling into light. Zooming

out, a blurry mess of green. A tiled roof, 

a mansion shrinks to a dot of cement, atoms

of bricks, next to the thin line of a greenish river.

The continent becomes a shapeless mass, oceans

become puddles. Zooming out, the planet is a 

sphere, a globe wielded by middle school teachers,

against the backdrop of black--empty, silent

black. Further and further, the sun is a minuscule

orb of light, surrounded by ellipses of spider

webs, each with its own drop of water orbiting

leisurely. Heliocentric beauty.

Zooming out, thousands of spider webs, millions

of glittering orbs of silver and gold, tinged

with red, the blue hues of death. A sparkling 

swirl, haunting tunes emanating from a blue 

dot ensnared in its frightening depths. Twirling,

unfathomable speeds. A black chasm at the center, 

hungry, merciless. Zooming out, billions

of spinning entities, darkened chasms of 

ruthless power. Shining with the light of conflated

stars, with no more power than a point source.

And just as cold. Zooming out, each galaxy is

like a star humanity views on the earth,

spread out against the night sky, oblivious

to the magnitude of what surrounds it. But after all,

the sun arches its path across the sky, planets and stars

chart their courses before our eyes. In our eyes, we live in a

geocentric world.