In full disclosure, I didn't get around to writing this until the next day, though the words held themselves, spinning, weightless, catching light, from the night before.
DAY TWENTY-SIX (2015-5-4)
There are no half measures in the vastness of space. We must manage,
everything, as the sum result of its calculations, the tiny, helpless box of air
sent, lost, in a frontier so dark as to seem void, and yet, teeming with life,
with the tiny bursts of fusion desperation that just, without context, have not yet reached us.
We spin, as two binary stars, caught in each other, and in the dance of it,
create a stronger gravitational pull than either of us could accomplish alone.