“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