A Missing Heartbeat
A philosopher feels like a god, only to find the true Goddess
I sit where no philosopher has sat before on the 2156-Sidge craft, peering upon Earth like a god at creation, considering starting anew.
Here, I'm disconnected from the rhythm of humankind. The magic of my being, the purpose for my breathing, all extinguished without the beating of Earth's heart. The absence of Mother Nature in space is excruciating, sickening.
I face imminent death in the silence of space and disquiet of my soul. The blue and white marble calls for my return, so I can feel her heartbeat drive my own.
To my Goddess, I will return.
About the Creator
Eloise Robertson
I pull my ideas randomly out of thin air and they materialise on a page. Some may call me a magician.
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By Eloise Robertson about a year ago in Fiction
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