The Galaxy’s Headphones

Heide Orleth ’22

Acrylic on canvas, a homemade gift given  

To match a starry-eyed daydreamer 

With her lyrical words 

But with a closer look 

Another scene is revealed 

A supernova 

The dying essence of a star 

Long since imploded into the emptiness of space 

A bright flash before eternal quiet 

The coming color its last exhale  

Tendrils of dust and gas reach into the black 

In shades of evergreen and lilac  

They curve and dance 

Within an endless void 

Nestled in its celestial arms 

Floats a mass of metal, glass,  

And life 

A port. 

Brimming with light in the dark 

In the chaos 

That a star left behind 

They bring their own music to the black 

Vessels made to cut through the rich fabric of spacetime  

Churn and sputter as they join the fray 

Locking onto the station’s open arms 

Its interior holding the same vibrance  

As the supernova 

From the furthest reaches of the galaxy 

From any number of solar systems and stars 

Speaking languages irreputable with the human tongue 

The population blooms to 

Rival any Earthen town 

A haven of trade and communication 

And in the palm of a crushing nothingness 

Life persists  

Deals are made, met, and broken 

Songs are sung, stories exchanged 

They breathe, smile, love, lose 

Against the Logic that rules the black 

But maybe that’s what one forgets 

Logic 

Science 

Possibility 

and Impossibility 

Perhaps the painting is merely that 

No grand tale to be seen or heard 

Imagination trumped by Logic 

Thankfully, that is a matter of opinion 

And mine says 

There is always a story to be found