“Going through life without seeing a total eclipse of the sun would be like going through life without ever falling in love.”—Rick Fienberg
I thought about this guy’s quote (off and on) all morning. I heard the story on NPR. Fineberg is a press officer who works for the American Astronomical Society. His quote is also published in a story titled Be Smart: A Partial Eclipse Can Fry Your Naked Eyes.
Really? I guess it depends on what type of love into which you’re falling. I can confess to a fascination of natural cosmic anomalies—even a passing obsession. But I get it: Fienberg is comparing his love for nature with agape love. Or at least I’d like to think so. One thing for certain: I admire Fienberg’s passion. And don’t get me wrong: I relished the notion of getting to see today’s solar eclipse. I missed it but I’m not broken-hearted or disappointed in the least.
I know I’ll never fall in love with an object of nature, but what if I did? What if I fell in love with supernovae and black holes and eclipses of every kind? This is the notion (and passion) that drives this poem: Falling In Love.
Falling in Love with Selene The night of the Great American Eclipse, and she suddenly appeared, so bright, voluptuous, so alone, like a lost angel. In the night, she was incomparable, no sun to block or consume her. So ominous and yet lovely, her presence beamed in the eastern Michigan sky. So close, I thought I might extend my arms, reach out, embrace the warmth of her bosom, or her icy cheeks. She was an itch I could not scratch, but I mustered confidence. Braced myself, stood on tippy toes, reached out, kissed her, and she consumed me. I will never be the same, nor will I ever kiss again.
© by Donald Lindsey All Rights Reserved
21 August 2017