Hawking Radiation

Weighting keeps us here.
The day that Stephen Hawking died,
the day Albert Einstein was born 139 years before,
Hawking born the day Galileo died 300 hundred years before
and someone was born on this day. Pi day, the day the chasm opened
and dark matter was ejected from the light.
I suppose we all got to where are by quantum leaps, by climbing, rolling moving across and over greater fields-we succumb, we are nowhere, we rest in solitude.
My own shoulders are up to my ears, I keep my weariness behind my shoulder blades and I feel my own mortality jutting out-I cannot look directly,
like microwaves and radiation, these invisibilities are equally scary like dark matters and dark energy without heat.

As my daughter says frequently, ‘Be sweeter’,
we should all kneel more, perhaps it would amplify the tiny voices
and it may allow the light to penetrate and diffuse itself further if we could only muster the energy to move out of our own way. It is all about the angular momentum and perspective. Rainbows are only visible in certain conditions. Rainbows are always sweet.

What goes around comes around this sphere eventually. We all find ourselves back to where we started at some point even if we never walk the same path. The choices are limited. For now we can only see things set at twenty-three degrees in relation to the sun and a shrinking two and a half light years is suspended between our galaxy and the hungry Andromeda, I am reminded of Benzine or the Ouroboros and the spiral enlongated in our DNA which may make all of this swallowed whole by more than one ellipse, or black hole singing at 432 Hz carrying a message for us all about the birth and death of stars and the inevitable darkness out of which new light is born.




Image credit Hewholooks at en.wikipedia [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC BY 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons.

Piercing the Bulls' eye

Objectivity is greater than aim can aspire. The subject is information and to extract without distortion. 

We would lose an appendage reaching into a black hole with our light bodies to retrieve already synthesized or archived data and extract it out as if we knew the shape we should be feeling for. 

From this perspective, the reach itself spells only the desire and a scent of mischief of misguided cravings in an attempt to just take the low hanging fruit so we may be satisfied that we tried. 

What happens to ones ten digits once inside a black hole? 

We know the outcome is either zero or one, no less. Possibly patterns that resemble other numbers, like thumbs, and indexes of which the remainder dropped off since it was never whole enough to be a digit of singularity, thus by separating the sheep from its flock, the black one stands out.

If the objective was just to arrive on the other side, would the singularity entangle all major limbs so they fit snuggly in straighter jackets? 

Light was wholly ignored but it where the attention was most focused, uninterrupted and beaming. 

What started as white ends up in yellow rags soaked in red, conveniently repellent toward saltwater and fibrously repulsed by solid matter, like tables and chairs, ribs and eyelids. 

The reception was about to begin. 

Now the objective shapes can carry all the notes too heavy to float along in sound, like the word that arose from thought which sought its utter meaning but made no point when given volume to pierce.

Black holes were better for collecting thoughts and compressing them into rays of hope often mistaken for solar flares. 

Image credit By Smithsonian Institution from United States, 'Centaurus, A Jet Power and Black hole-Chandra image (X-rays)' [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.