Through me, in science fiction, you could fly,
between each sub-atomic particle.
I’d be, well, most like a galaxy,
not like a single, separate article.
Once through, distant stars would fill the sky
(particles in a gas are more spread out),
objects would appear as nebulae
which, being human, you’d explore, no doubt.
Seen like this the space that separates
you and I begins to lose its meaning:
we are not the distinct, solid shapes
we see ourselves to be: more like clouds drifting.
Loneliness, then, is not our true condition:
we feel alone by virtue of position.
.
Dominic Rivron
Picture Nick Victor
.