orbital (18/8/24)

we’re living on such
a scrap of a world
at the fag-end of the universe,
a rock that we think
is unique,
one of a kind
making us special
instead of just maybe
the runt of a litter
of planets teetering
out there in Space
chasing each other
around a sun
dragging their moons
on some eternal marathon,
dodging, colliding
while asteroids, comets
defying this trend
sail to their ultimate end,
end of the line,
end of time,
skimming the edge
of an orbital ledge,
how is it we are all
‘floating’ in Space,
a space with no air
no up nor down,
where gravity’s
long been abandoned,
becoming more ordered
while seemingly random
a chance in a million
a billion
a trillion,
uncountable turns
and twists of fate
all a slingshot away.

© 2024 robert greig