|Pent up after days of dreary weather, I ventured outside. There, to|
my utter shock, I walked into a wall. It was a solid wall of heat.
No, more of a cylinder. The kind of heat you feel when you open the
oven door to peek at its contents knowing full-well you are letting
that heat escape, and delaying whatever lies inside from finishing.
Patience, patience ...no, I must look.
I looked up, as best I could (the light from this beam was blinding),
to face my assailant. Ah, the sun! ...but, though it had been
raining for about three days prior, it was different to see the sun.
I look around, and up again. The light from this object is
covering the area.
I stepped out of the beam ...cool, into the beam ....heat.
I looked up again.
A star - a star the ball of rock I am now on, revolves around, is
generating so much heat, from so great a distance, that I must
retreat to an area beyond its grasp. I must find cover from the
light of this distance star. It illuminates even the smallest
crevices. Great beams of heat and light searing across the surface
of this small planet. The inhabitants take cover (some), find/build
shelters (most), to protect themselves from this distant neighbor of
heat and light. We, on this planet, have learned to adapt to living
with this object in our skies, beyond our skies, beyond our reach.
Yet we are subjected, almost daily, to its reach.
Didn't the realtor warn us? Location, location, location.