Theory on Love’s Creation

Musing on the "Theia Impact" inspired by my morning coffee

First a sip, then the ting on the tongue of this morning’s Americana.
Outside, the tail end of a lingering dawn.
The sky is clear.
It pulses with the energy of a somewhere sun.

It evades Berlin in winter, and the city accustoms itself to the lolloping grey.
That is why we dance here, not to escape the nausea. But to equalize the blandness.

The New Year, vast and unknown, hovers above mind, disinterested as a moon.
We’re caught in one another’s gravity.
But unlike us, our lunar friend has no “need to know”.

Did you know it was once part of us?
4.5 billion years ago it was scooped from the earth like an orb of cosmic ice cream.

Somewhere out there,
A lumbering interplanetary body called “Theia” carried in her the dream of life.

Wandering through the solitude of space
A molten star caught her eye,
Glittering away in a distant galaxy, unsure of what to do with itself.

And so she zeroed in.
When she smashed into the earth she’d didn’t destroy it.
She intermingled, merged, coalesced.
Two became one.

Imagine that, our celestial conception.
Velocity, impact, explosion.
Core melted into core.
Inside, the seed of everything.

Yet the impact also caused debris:
Not splintering into infinity but forever attached.
And so Theia and the earth had a child;
The Moon.
And like a child, she is evermore linked to her parent.

Harnessed.

Some think of gravity scientifically.
Fools!

It’s a force shaped by one thing:
Passionate, brutal, undying love.

The dream of life, born from the decision to companion one another, to face the eternal solitude of space together, not apart.

And as for this modern, fragmented, distracted version we call reality?
Think nothing of it!
A daydream of cosmic reality.

Don’t be afraid of the New Year.
The moon conditions the length of the day, the stability of the seasons, the consistency of the tides.

You are the progeny of the sexiest, grittiest and most enduring of loves.
Surrounded by it
Conditioned by it.

When I look into the sky this morning, I see no moon.
But I know it’s out there.
And as long as it is, I will face life with the un-coolest of ideas: faith.
Isn’t it written into the fabric of things?

What a thing it is to be alive!
Moon-shaped.
Thea-dreamed.
Explosion caused.
They say nothing matters.
Because they don’t understand what it is to be rendered in significance.

Life.
The immortal dream.
The ancient paradox.
The impossible miracle.

A last sip of my coffee.
I am ready for the day now.