by Yvette A. Schnoeker-Shorb
It will be a quieter universe without us. Who will dream the stars into telescopic view? Who will create all those streams of cultural memes when the world collapses. Yet it still goes on—the safe and social signaling: “Have a great day!”; “How are you?”; “We should get together sometime.”—all those petty pleasantries that don’t trespass on self-censorship, don’t mess with unspoken oppression. While no one greets a neighbor, “Hello, friend, did you know the end of us is coming?” and no mother thinks to the baby in her belly, “Mama may not live out her life span,” still the world is winking us away, like some silent, cosmic communication. Nations are crashing into a political wreck; hope is a whisper as we witness the edge of the cliff. But the Bible suggests humans are designed to live in God’s heaven forever, and evolution insists our species’ inherent behaviors favor our will to survive. Yet we are recklessly driving life, guardrails no longer defining the curves. But after our remnants drift as particles to other planets, it will be a quieter universe without us.
BACK