Simon Bisson (sbisson) wrote,
Simon Bisson

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Satellites and shooting stars

You don't see the stars much in London. After a while you forget them, and stop looking up at the sky.

So as darkness fell at a Swindon sports club, I lay on my back in the middle of a football pitch and looked up at the sky. Falling into the night without leaving the ground. As my eyes adjusted to the night, more and more stars appeared, flickering in the warm summer air - white, yellow, red, blue. Constellations drew themselves across the sky, joining the dots as they sketched the old, old patterns one more time.

A faint spark wandered slowly across the sky, folowing gravity's tracks. A satellite, falling in an endless spiral. A little dot of light that marches across the tapestry of night. Another on a different track. Always orbiting, always.

Then they came, without warning. Bright lines drew themselves across the night, falling away. Shooting stars, sputtering it all out in one last burning moment. Fragments of the birth of the planets, of the dawn of time, connecting us to the wider universe. These are the star seeds that became us, the last traces of the rain of comets that gave birth to the oceans.
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