# Photons

Jan 5, 2017 · 2 min read

Photons are exhausted. Tiny, timeless bundles of energy . . . traveling to and fro in a panicked hustle . . . . .to deliver a message from some distant star to any creature clever enough to . . . intercept, . . . . . . .manipulate, . . . . . . . . .bend, . . . . . . . . . . . . .encode or decode love, one speck at a time.

Space is vast, . . .more stairs than stars, . . . . . .more nothing than something.

Still, the message of love, . . .borne by the light specks . . . . . . fly on into the infinite dark, . . . . . . . .bringing light but only to those who can see.

Infinite burdens, . . .a message too important, . . . . . .a task too difficult, march on in slow motion.

All of space is measured from moment to moment, . . .billions of years passing in a blink, . . . . . .focused on the task at hand, undisturbed by distance.

I march up the stairs forever, . . .content, . . . . . .loved, . . . . . . . . .loving, knowing the only discomfort and boredom comes from outside.

Here, inside, I carry my message of love, . . .timeless, . . . . . .tireless, . . . . . . . . .exhausted, but only for a moment.

Photons have mass? I didn’t even know they were Catholic. -Woody Allen

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