Isolation, is as vastly expansive as a sun-baked sprawling-silk-sand-swept desert of dispicable desolation. The horrid heat of which is felt to the core of the earth. An isolated planet, adrift-alone, abandoned by way of the absence of sameness in a diversified gallaxy. Floating-freely forever in segregated space.

Sometimes when planets meet, they collide, crashing carelessly and without prudent purpose. Large portions, break away from the main milieu of mass. Each large, heavy body, isolated indiscimminately, orbiting the center of appropriate definition. The slim-social center of mass that remains connected and intact, shuns the isolated entities eagerly.

Space is relative to place, size and time. It is all-encompassing and engulfing to the broken planet that has been left differently shaped through the scars of experience. Yet, in this continuum of shifting, moving and evolving zero gravity there is a profound sense of eternal emptiness amongst the dark backdrop of isolated-inclusiveness.

There is a cold, lonely blackened sense of nothingness in this isolated reality that is shared by so many stars. Super-size stars. Brightly-shining stars, whose glow is dimmed by the small, thinner particles of dust that bog down in outer space. It is this interruption of the intended ebb and flow of each individual's light that bespeaks the torment of insulated isolation.

Right now there is many a larger mass floating in space within the gigantic galactic graveyard of grief gallantly chasing the comets of change. Streaking stars, shimmering brave-bright light to proclaim to all in the universe, the utter ubiquitous universality of isolation.

© 1995 A.J. Mahari

Anger

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