They
say, far back (too many hundred million years ago
for you
or me to count or understand) a giant bandit
of a
rocky body cracked into and mounted Earth: raped it,
and
ejaculated in its center: gave ferocious birth to our
iron
core. For eons we had fizzy rings, like Saturn (less or
more) –
out of which catastrophe, and not a whit too soon,
emerged
our moon. Iron gave us a magnetic field
(shielding
us from most of the unwieldy evils of the sun) –
moon-tug
kept us from the drunken wobble we’d have badly
stumbled
from without her: no living thing would have
been
able safely to traverse the ground had it not been
for all
the reckless violence of our gratuitously whizzing
sphere,
and the unconscionable queer impertinent wild
shock
of molten rock. And so, my dear, today, when you
sit
down to eat a roasted creature which, with you,
would
not be featured here without the planet’s
mad
licentious past, give thanks for the eruptive horror
that created it – and has
obliged to deign to let you last.
.
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