poetry of a planet

How can a human being comprehend endlessness? A rock we pick up today may have been the mountain a dinosaur walked on, and was already millions, even billions of years old at that time. The slow drift of continents is controlled by processes on the scale of atoms. When light left the furthest star we can observe from here, the Earth did not exist yet. Poetry of a planet is about the connection between large and small. The Earth and I, geological and human timescales.

I try to grasp the infinitely large and infinitely small around me, with myself as ‘point zero’. The Earth exists, as a kind of parallel universe to our daily existence. I take notes, I probe the surface, isolate elements from a larger whole and highlight them. I point at what catches my eye, but hardly anyone else sees. Whether I look through a microscope or at satellite images, or through a camera during my travels: everywhere I go, I see the large echoing through the small. Is there any difference between what is close and what is far away? The rhythm of the Earth, the order from which the apparently chaotic nature arises, repeats itself again and again. In time. In space. Over and
over, but slightly different every time.