It is about the distances computed by parallax
through the atmosphere, the bend of this tiny blue planet,
the force of recognition, the perspective that we lack.

The size is incomprehensible, our vision retracts,
pulsar lighthouses, quasar radios, diffusion prismatic.
It is about the distances computed by parallax.

Running our fingers through the ozone in order to distract
from the chaos, the circus of patterns leads us to the path,
the force of recognition, the perspective that we lack.

From the center, like breathing, the universe contracts,
swarming disks of nebulous gas: lackadaisical expatriates.
It is about the distances computed by parallax.

Pinpoints of light, fill the northern sky, cloud my sight as I exact—
I try to see beyond this life, beyond this world, past
the force of recognition, the perspective that we lack.

And there is the hope for us in the emptiness, I expect,
despite that it is not all empty, but filled with thoughts and life, that
it is about the distances computed by parallax,
the force of recognition, the perspective that we lack.

Copyright © 2008, Matthew Masucci

Image Credit: NASA

Aurora Australis

Matthew Masucci enjoys teaching and writing. He currently resides in Southwest Florida with his wife, daughter, and son.