Distance

The world is breathing. I can feel the inhale of change just as well as the exhale of familiarity with every gust of wind that proceeds the last. She shrivels up at the thought of peace and instead prefers the absolute consistency of chaos that can only come from insanity. When I first saw Earth it was from a space so far off that it could only be surrounded by darkness. The kind where nothing is known and nothing is considered. Behind its eyes there was a blank state of contentment that followed on the heels of time, but lagged the persistence of passion. 

Who are you? 

Earth.

And in her name alone she held a sense of self so strange that I could only barely hear her. The colors were magnificent and the swirls of difference came to me at a pace I wasn't ready to accept. Surely she can't be that fast. 

Why do you spin?

I am out of control. There is nothing in infinity that can slow me down and if it tries it will fail time and time again.

But isn't that something consistent?

Failure?

The concept was new to me. What was trying if trying was unhappiness? To move from one state to the next was foreign and in its cotton poly blend of substantial information, I shrunk away, holding fast to the idea of sameness. I will never find peace on a planet that twirls. Yet still she spins with a motion of grace that could only be kept up by a ballerina. One of those little Russian ones with pointed feet, she must tap lightly on absolutely nothing. The clouds are like scarves and they cover only parts of her, the rest I can see and I know that piece by piece I'll be able to see her whole. Just never at one time. 

The concept is lost.