Quasar
Year one, just the one sun we know of.
Year one, life and world as we know of.
Fruits cost the same, vegetables the same.
Astronomy is just a science, money rules all.
Year one, world is pacing ahead, stopping by and admiring the view is for some other day.
People are scared, reluctant to talk to strangers.
Trust is a fortune, to be earned and cherished.
Some men rule the roost, the rest let them be ruled some men run all their lives from their egos towards their egos the rest keep flirting with the present moment and their fates their dates some seek immortality in history and soul the rest slip into third gear of age to slowly grow wise grow old.
Year one, many remarkable things made mundane in the drudgery of life.
Year two, one sun and two moons.
Time for story tellers of all kinds to swoon.
Some of them stop in their tracks during noon they wonder there still is one sun but why two moons.
Year two, people divided into sanes and loonies.
Year two, humanity thriving on hot sudden joys on pleasure always derived a bit too late never too soonies.
Satisfaction, during year two, was sought for but eerily evasive.
Crazy stories were abound, most of them logically hollow some select few were sound many gasped at the extra moon during the night some inspired their kids to study astronomy in their own right the second moon got some excited some scared and some contemplative.
Year three, the second moon getting bigger and bringing another one for free.
It's serious enough for movies and books now, the storytellers are on a narrative spree.
The cosmos made it to the world economy, with three moons in year three.
Temples and churches filled to the brim,
It is year of Jesus, year of Ram and year of Prophet.
Coincidence? Think not the wise and elderly.
They say Armageddon they say redemption,
Everyone confidently made sense of it.
Everyone agreed with the rest, barely.
All hail the new dawn, declared the sensationalist.
Welcome the golden age of zero taxes and civil liberties.
Don't listen to him we're just being punished for our sins, shouted the fundamentalist.
Like puppies everyone looked this way and that, gobbling stories in the day and counting moons in the night.
Year three nights were really really bright.
If only they knew what was in store, oh that would have been such a huge fright.
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By end of year five, the sky was alive.
Teeming with little moons little suns,
the pantomime had crazed beyond exciting beyond tantalising, the storytellers gave up on their yarns for the explanation was only one.
We're going to witness a quasar,
an event of enormous destruction on that day the sun would be spread wide and far.
At first they huffed off and hushed off the man.
At first, their fear told them to shut off the man.
For a little while away from public eye, completely fucked off the man,
Like a dissonant chord struck off the man
Like a one night sensation was brushed off the man.
The physics however, was solid.
The predictions solid, day after day dereliction of hope, solid.
Physics told him the world would end, in despair clung to Smirnoff, the man.
When the sunrise paled in comparison to the moonrises when the planet started to celebrate its virtues started to truly regret it's vices when even the astrologers fainted and their gyaan spilled out librans, leos or pisces that is when the world's end was sealed at the hands of big bully stars when it was gloomily determined nothing left to surmises the planet would be torn apart, blazing, ashing because in our backyard beyond Venus beyond mars we have Naxalite stars because the universe decided to deal us a quasar.
When it ceased to make sense.
When it ceased to matter.
When the collective fear hardened into depression, worldwide.
That is when our species saw our last historical slide.
Why the fear, why despair, it's alright if our hearts seem to ride comets but why teary eyed?
We would all die soonish but why let it be said that we never tried.
In the face of massacre of the hope for another morning why,
why go gentle into the good night?
The day when it all converged together,
The day when the heavens rained fire, seemingly forever.
The day whose tomorrow would arrive never
the day of the quasar when the sun burst and spill wide and far humanity rose to its feet, just like in the days of war metal chariots in the sky young blood flew by oceans teeming with dolphins and surfers orcas whales splashing roaring it wasn't the day of whispers and murmurs yes there was fear yes the sun was very big very near yet the last lesson to be one with the universe it did appear the day when tremendous hearts burst tremendously when joy was meant to be spilled day of greatest ravest parties for there would be no hangovers day of mighty concerts thronging through the afternoons for this weekend it would never cease let the skies rain fire this day would see everyone's pyres but no we would not be scared and retire run shriek yell play let yourself for one last time admire.
The gift of reality we always had.
The reality we leave behind to meet our heavens, as our cultures dictate.
Goodbye leaves, winters, springs and sunshine.
Goodbye people, our follies our hatreds for our loves we take with us.
As our foreheads melt and we see our places truly.
At the feet of great fires mighty turbulences at the indifferent breast of celestial occurrences.
As our hair singe eyelashes disappear as the fires race down great cities falling from the sky we hold our favourite hands stand with those who matter indulging in the one last.
The one last kiss one last cake one last hug one last handshake one last game one last round of skates one last joint one last drag of meth one last moment of life and then an eternity of death.
The day when on earth it rained a quasar.
The planet melted like wax, the sun burst and spread wide and far.
