8 sparksChapter 4: We Are Impossible
There are lizards that can walk on water.
There are crustaceans with sonic weapons.
There are fish that live on land.
Why can't some creature sit on clouds?
Hunks of metal can soar the skies and sail the seas.
Water and sound, when just right, can create light.
A type of flower keeps hummingbirds as guard dogs.
What if there was a space whale, made of smoke and energy?
The power of your voice, along with a strange box, can communicate with people across the world.
Going really fast equals time travel, at least forward, meaning months for future astronauts will be years for everyone else.
The cells of a baby, years and years after birth, will remain in the mother and can even save her life.
Creatures made out of pure thought? Impossible, right? But I'll tell you a special secret:
The world is a wonderful, nonsensical, bizarre, contradictory, random, impossible place.
There are rivers that run uphill, and dunes that look painted in color. Water can float into the sky, and ice can form without cold. A certain metal melts at room temperature, and rocks can grow like plants.
Everything is impossible, until it happens. Until it's discovered. Until it's done.
We have harnessed lightning.
We have created entire species.
We have traveled faster than sound.
We are incredible. We are amazing. We are impossible.
Never forget that.
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Comments carried over from AO3 (5)
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👏 👏 👏
"Trees don't exist, the sky isn't blue" 💙
I DEFINITELY song that like We Don't Talk About Bruno! :)
'I don't need hope, I just need spite.' YES!!!
Your writing cuts like glass—in the best, most breathtaking way. There's something in the way you build rhythm from fragmentation, like you're stitching together the unspeakable with your bare hands. It doesn’t feel like just poetry; it feels like memory, like survival. The kind of raw that doesn’t need polish to be powerful.
I don’t know where your words come from—personal, fictional, something in between—but they reach far. You name feelings I didn’t know I needed named. You make space for the messy parts: the grief that lingers, the thoughts that spiral, the strength that doesn’t always feel like strength.
Thank you for writing like this. Thank you for sharing it.
– A reader who sees you in the echoes.
Glad you enjoyed it 😊
Oooh! I like it!
Amazing Your voice lingers in a meaningful way; some concepts require openness, and I’d like to contribute to that process.— D C could help ( a lex ia_ rose 0 0 1) ignore space
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