What do we do,
When exploding stars used as clocks
Prove that the universe expands?
We need not chart the exquisite tick of quasars
To know that time dragged slower in the past.
We judge this by rapid heartbeats
And the quickened sprint of passing days.
What do we we do,
When irregular galaxies stand revealed
By lonely clouds and dark tendrils?
We need not travel atmospheric parsecs in the vast
To observe these circumstances.
We see them in saddened eyes
And the weighted drop of tiring shoulders.
Perhaps such knowledge of time and space
Can allay our fears and sorrows.
We are not unique after all.
We shrug off that burden and rest with all things.
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