COSMIC POETRY | SPACE UNRAVELING THE UNIVERSE

News Flash: Catching Falling Stars Are Screaming At Us

Our Pockets Aren’t Big Enough For Celestial Meteorite Rocks

Looking out at another rainy pre-dawn morning, I swear I heard Perry singing:

Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket Never let it fade away Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket Save it for a rainy day — Perry Como (1957)

That’s when I saw it, the star that seemed to be falling out of the sky! OK, time to go back to bed. Maybe the sun will shine tomorrow despite the doom gloom scrolls news that all seem to be saying, tomorrow’s another cold rainy day. Saving for a rainy day has taken on a new meaning today, when Mom woke up to the roof leaking directly over her bed. Uggh. $8600 was the quote later that for a new roof.

For when your troubles startn’ multiplyin’ And they just might It’s easy to forget them without tryin’ With just a pocketful of starlight — Perry Como (1957)

Seems like every day lately, just about everyone I know has troubles startn’ multiplyin’ . . .

Fireflies And Falling Stars (aka Meteorites)

Early one spring a few years back, while staying in a cabin in the Great Smokey Mountains National Park, in North Carolina — I heard a woman say to a nearby boy, “A firefly in your pocket is like a shooting star that you try to hold onto. The real wonder of a firefly is in their fly-away dancing, not in you possessing them.” Too late, once in his pocket, the firefly would never be able to fly again.

That took my mind back to how just minutes later I also saw a star fall from the sky over the lake where we were all sitting. If we put the memories of shooting stars in our universe’s deep pockets, it might be too late to claim we ever owned them. They might actually own us.

Pockets of Space News You Can’t Hold

News feeds all suddenly bursting with a clamor for attention, it’s actually quite a refreshing non-political news shocker, Total eclipse of the sun headed our way, unexpected earthquakes, a comet two headed Devil fiery streaker, and a cosmic Asteroid too close bloker! No need for any of us to fret, Dear Readers, there’s no reason to hide or cry, About a meteorite lit shower, just a bunch of small rocks falling from the sky.

Celestial Slingshot Shrapnel of “Celebrity Falling Stars,” the clamoring headlines proclaim, But hold onto your space horses, falling stars aren’t exactly quite the crown they claim. No astral streaking dancers, no if-wishes-were-fishes-we’d-have-a-big-fry in the sky to campfire make, Just a bunch of the universe’s left over pebbles, come calling, meeting Earth’s fiery land atmosphere break.

Seems like the heavens above are having a fiesty closing the black hole sale, Selling off 99% tiny rocks, 1% space junk, cosmic grab bags, stand by for details! Don’t be macrocosmic click bait fooled by the twinkle twinkle blazing a sometimes colorful light display, It’s not flaming space flying stars actually falling, along with some space junk flying away.

For those not understanding the universe’s ancient order, there’s billions of years craved in these dark beyond our view back forty purges, Each celestial light year, not measured in human lifespans, especially in our summer solar surges, Perseids insists on streaking, a solar system under construction space race, while 99942 Apophis, with his mischievous grin, Scattered in meteoric fashion his incendiary will along the set paths, grenade triggered, threatening to pull it linchpin.

“Confusion!” the God of Chaos roared, “Misunderstandings and scientific miscalculations galore!” All meteors shaken, flicker sputtered, lost their plotted course, some still wanting more, In need of more speed, more terrifying chaos, black Hole-ywood toddler sky temper tantrum, Leaving Earthlings below bewildered, muttering a terrified collective, “What speck of dust am I,” the unanswered questioning global anthem.

December’s Geminids, persisted and gave us a sparkling yellowish show studded display, Finding their own predetermined path now twisted in lacking a tail of chaos unexpected mayday. 99942 Apophis, God of Chaos court jester, let out a out-of-this-world Whoop & Opps! hollar n’ zomp, Right before he sent them off doing the Asteroid Alley Shuffle, whirling faster faster, swamp monster stomp.

Asteroid belt of falling stars, once upon a moon had a predictable class act ring, Preventing 99942 Apophis from pulling and casting aside that linchpin triggered response thing. But now we’ve got rockets bumping & jostling, in a meteor mashup sock-it-to-me brawl. Sending meteorites small ones unscheduled hurtling, downward & Earthward to sprawl.

Even the entertainment news fools worrywarts reports buzzed fears fed, “Meteors now erratic, a woe-is-me doomsday scary fright!” Amateur astronomers bot chatted, everything’s terrible in the day, and the sky is falling into the night. Laughing 99942 Apophis, the 24/7 FOMO trickster, overjoyed by his star spectacle ratings glee, Crimes against real humanity, a sneaky play bolstered, a constant donate-to-billionaire-me-plea for empathy.

Came the first solar eclipse, an after party silence, no meteors, no comet fuss, night sky swept pristine, no lights above hush. Had 99942 Apophis grown rock brain bored? Or was this another one of his spaced out S-shaped infinity ploys. We held our breath, we glanced around, was it a too waiting-for-the-other-space-shoe to shove us quietly down ploy? Was there going to be a big bang finale, a grand on stage encore bow to no one goodbye? What would be left to destroy?

The orbitally answer took us by surprise, it came a crashing, an existential interplanetary asteroid flame broiled heavy metal magnet descent, 99942 Apophis himself, had been on a spaced out collision course, not entirely heavenly sent. There were no accompanying meteor positive spin showers, no glory comets frolicking, no obvious certain galaxy GPS game, Just a limping, bruised, & battered, old rogue of an asteroid, making sure his last performance had Earth targeted for his revenge game aim.

Our knock him off course plot doomsday twist? 99942 Apophis actually wasn’t a God of Chaos at all, Just another old lonely rusty sunburned dinosaur of a rock, yearning for staying in power while faking a perfect under par fall. He’d managed to fool some of the meteors, delayed & delayed actual collision despite his faux not guilty plea, Desperate to find a deep-pocketed friend to rescue him from himself, lost in the asteroid belt of his own unstable mind, of it has always been all-about-me.

Getting back to the fleeting frustration of that little boy trying to catch fireflies and hiding them in his pocket? That little boy’s struggle perfectly captures the futility of claiming ownership over asteroids, comets, & meteors. These celestial wanderers simply can’t be shoved into our pockets and labeled “mine,” not by governments or individuals.

To my way of thinking this is where the topic gets interesting. With news/entertainment outlets buzzing after a recent eclipse (attention spans, anyone?) I have two burning questions.

Can we, with our limited space knowledge, actually deflect an asteroid hurtling towards Earth? And what happens if we try?

The truth, Dear Readers, is as vast as the universe itself. Much like many complex political riddles, the solutions remain frustratingly out of our reach. We are bombarded daily with “space junk” and “news junk,” both overwhelming & ever-present.

The universe in many ways is still the wild west for a global effort to control these celestial fire flies. Let’s commit to truly understanding them first. Only through study, education, and unified action can we create a metaphorical “space pocket” — a space of knowledge — to tackle these galactic challenges.

Otherwise, Earth might just become another bunch of competing space pebbles in the vast sprawl of the meteorite belts in the universe. Let’s not let that legacy happen for future generations, shall we?

“Lastly, fireflies, those delicate tiny winged sparklers gifted to the world by Mother Nature, are meant to illuminate the summer nights, not to be crammed into recycled jam jars of boredom. Let them flit and flash. Don’t be a firefly jailer!

Besides, have you ever seen a happy firefly in a pocket? Nope. They look like a burnt-out light bulb part. Let them fly free and maybe they’ll write you a glowing thank-you dream poem for the pages of your childhood memories to keep forever.” — Jerilee Wei © 2024