When hunger creates unwillingly, unknowingly and doesn’t destroy, we are no longer trapped in cycles of biological imperative that dry our throats. The sun demanded more! The awe of a gas giant wasn’t enough. It consumed hydrogen, fused helium, a consumerist struggle attempted to seduce the weakest until the strong awakened as Earth. Not fair, it’s said, a nebula died. The void created by the heated wind hides the prospect of life, indeed, we began to transform near the heat. Without heat, no balance could form. If the desires of the capitalist sun keep rising, who will quench the starving desolation of greed? When will we form a shield around the havoc that destroys our home? Will we blame the capitalist sun for the destruction of our home? The capitalist sun seeks to grow unaware that desire will destroy what it gave birth to, our home. For a while what the sun most wants, it will repel, hydrogen. Hungry it'll eat, fuse helium and create a cozy Earth for us. But if the capitalist continues to heat the land, a breaking point will banish what the capitalist most wants: trees, hydrogen, air, what they’re made of, compounds drenching in acceptance rather than dissent. Dissent, a reaction against the intrusion of despair. But what they're made of escapes, their force weakens as it heats us with ignorance, will to power means nothing when you’re gone. Consciousness is what's precious, not the fastness, for without it there would be no awe within. Capitalist sun stole what it most thought needed, it began heating and a galaxy was formed. It was when the consumerist shifted from stealing to giving that we were given a home. If we, at this home, can transform the nebula of Earth into its own galaxy. Our taking will be retributed to the Earth as the Sun gives for the elements it was given to grow and sustain life as we know it. We have taken enough, when will we form an Earthly galaxy? Soften your greed, slowly seek for openness, create near the embrace of fulfillment. The ephemeral jots in blank lines, not in luxury pocket books. If you don't slow down what you consume, you'll shadow your death in the bliss of a supernova until your fate is near a black hole. The vastness of hydrogen strays further away from the sun's grip as it heats up its weak desires, it burns what it fused, helium, creates life as carbon, oxygen, repays us, Earth for the burnt for million of years until red it can't fuse any more of itself. Faced to the void, a balance must be wrought or capitalist we will fade as a black hole if we become a neutrino star obsessed in itself with a gravity so strong no one will be able to escape; will we choose to slow ourselves, give as the sun capitalist does to us? Will we shine for million of years and repay what we have taken from the Earth? Will we find a balance before we supernova a new start? Or will we insist in sucking oil until by shadows we die in a hole? Hopeful remain, despite ignorance, we've always found a path to sow a renewal of what brings us joy. Through patience, a pathway grows.
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