cosmos: part 4

Planet Earth was waiting in her steady dance. Her elliptical journeys were carefully choreographed calls through the Universe. "Life here. I am here. Hello." No response yet. Maybe her grammar was rusty.
-
hide and seek

Dark matter was hiding.
10.
Not in closets. Not in alleys.
9, 8...
Not in sewers, nor attics.
7, 6...
Not in your neighbor's garden, not in your mother's cooking.
5, 4, 3...
Not in your back jean pocket.
2.
Not in your weary footsteps.
1.
-
It hadn't occurred to him what a meep was until he saw one. It came from the sky, parting the clouds, bouncing off the dollar store awning, landing by the sewer drain. 

He saw it there and said, "Well, that's a meep if I ever did see one." 

And, of course, he had never seen one before. 

And no one had ever seen a meep before. Because a meep had never before existed. 

"Well, what are you even doing here? You've sure come a long way from home." 

That much was true, but our friend did not realize just how far and just how much the meep had sacrificed.

Because the meep was not always a meep. The meep was a god. 

Our friend is Ole Man Grody, the neighborhood hobo. Nobody calls him Ole Man Grody, save for three young children who were obsessed with the man in the summer of 2002. And myself, of course. And now you. 

So he kept the meep in his shirt pocket, as a charm at first, and then as a companion. Because, he soon realized, that the meep was alive. 

It had occurred to him that the thing was growing. Not outwardly, no. It was still small enough to fit in his hand. But it was heavier. Still, he carried it with him everywhere. And as it grew heavier, its presence was harder to ignore. So that the moment the meep left his pocket, he couldn't help but miss it. 

And then the day came, when the meep broke through his shirt pocket. It must have weighed 5 pounds at that point.

"Well, it really is a shame that you keep growing like this. How am I supposed to keep you, then?" 

He held it with both hands cupped. And just as he asked, it grew. Not outwardly, of course. But it was heavier. Much heavier. 

Ole Man Grody's knees buckled at the shock. Soon he wouldn't be able to hold the thing at all. 

"Well, this is a dilemma if I ever did see one."

 And he decided to go think it through by the duck pond. The meep must have weighed 50 pounds at that point.  

"And where is this heaviness coming from?" Maybe that wasn't Ole Man Grody asking. Maybe it was me. It wasn't the meep.

The duck pond was only a mile away. But the sun was beating down mercilessly. And every step that our friend took was marked by hesitation. Because everything took longer, at his age. He was always reminding his muscles, tendons, and bones, just how to move. Just how to keep going. 

"It's suffering."

The meep was suffering, he realized. Because this world was swimming with heaviness. A heaviness the meep was not prepared to endure. 

"I gotta get you back home!"