Or, But (Poem by Ebube Mbulu, Sketch by Juan Pablo Nevarez)
Or, But
Even though my aspirations
Have never been as exciting,
I’ve always wondered how
An astronaut decides
His sleep schedule.
The sun does not go down
For him, nor does the moon
Come up to tell him goodnight.
No. In orbit, we are the masters
Of time and space. As the earth
Rotates, he is unwary, undeterred.
Hence, stuck in blissful limbo.
In this way, aren’t we the very
Time that we choose to worship
But refuses to conviene for us?
For time is simply rotation.
As clockwork, we puppeteer ourselves.
So, I’ll strike a point: Maybe if
“Orbit” turned into “Or, but,” we’d find
A divergence from this undignified
Staggering to our timely aimlessness.
Have never been as exciting,
I’ve always wondered how
An astronaut decides
His sleep schedule.
The sun does not go down
For him, nor does the moon
Come up to tell him goodnight.
No. In orbit, we are the masters
Of time and space. As the earth
Rotates, he is unwary, undeterred.
Hence, stuck in blissful limbo.
In this way, aren’t we the very
Time that we choose to worship
But refuses to conviene for us?
For time is simply rotation.
As clockwork, we puppeteer ourselves.
So, I’ll strike a point: Maybe if
“Orbit” turned into “Or, but,” we’d find
A divergence from this undignified
Staggering to our timely aimlessness.
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