Chapter Fifty Seven: Nebula

The three rules of the Librarians

of Space and Time are:

1) Silence;

2) Books must be returned no later

than the last date shown; and

3) Do not interfere with the nature

of causality.

Terry Pratchett, Guards! Guards!

Beyond the edge of the world

there's a space where emptiness and

substance neatly overlap, where past

and future forms a continuous,

endless loop. And, hovering about, there

are signs no one has ever read,

chords no one has ever heard.

Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

Real museums are places where

Time is transformed into Space.

Orhan Pamuk, The Museum of Innocence

Severity, a collected thoughts
Of the many beautiful, splendid thing

Deranged but the culprit may say

An inundation of foul thoughts

Maybe a nebula

Fully conceived, yet misunderstood

Of the many billion stars

Present and twinkling

There, suspended in space

A magic sleigh

It may still be alive

Shown by the capitalism of Magic

Although Christmas is still far way

From the Ordinary Time

It wiggles, it sings

A Christmas carol it seems

But the voice was blue

Sad, and obnoxious

It suffers, it cries

O what a mystery in the night!

Where is the yuletide?

The occasion of Love

Presents and gifts

Stolen by the moment's wish

Incompletely abandoned

From the depths of outer space

But where is he?

Where are they?

The owner of such magical sleigh

Untimely, a question arises

Inconveniently

To what extent?

Is it karma?

Unlucky chance?

Coincidence?

To whose name shall we call?

It is far too dangerous

Perilous and shameful

Unconscionable to an extent

The poem, then, starts to crawl

Of the many astrophysical calls

Done, shattered in death!

Deception! Imposter!

But where exactly is the sleigh?

With it are the reindeers as well

Quite irregular

Weird and curious, too

All of the same time

Then the nebula, again protrudes

Resurfacing at will

It emerges in outer space

But where are they?

The lost and the cause

The victims unkind

They must answer the call

But they can't, they won't

There is no voice

Not even the faintest roar

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Picture from Pexels.