Author: Philip G Hostetler

I’m a light-rope walker, it’s my business to tread where particles are waves. And I’ve been walking for all of eternity, a grave responsibility that wasn’t so much given to me, but I became.

It’s a curse that I speak in poetics, it turns out that even entropy has a rhythm. And that music can be heard, even in the vacuum of space.

And you’d think I’d have learned to stop walking, but what’s left to do than nothing?

Can’t have that and neither should you.

Just because we’re millions of lightyears away, my dear, doesn’t mean that I don’t know you’re there. Light bends and so do I, so I’ll keep walking, until “E”, equals MC squared.

Maybe you’ve seen my signal cutting through the void, maybe it’s decayed through time and you’ll not recognize my voice. But I hear your music in the entropy, love, when you went spelunking into that black hole.

Dr. Maxell was a madman to discorporate us as he did, and shoot us as entangled particles through the stars. I went light rope walking and you went into the dark.

When I spun up, you spun down, like you knew you had someplace to be, and it certainly wasn’t with me.

…and I’m just beginning to believe that that’s ok.