Surface is a fiction, physicality another. Time begins to flow and incidents start to occur.
A billion years ago they ate some light, dreamed of a pale blue dot. Is there a way for the cosmos to know itself?
They are born and they die, how strange! Blue turns red, how do they do it? What should they become?
Light years have passed, still they are not determined. Exploration is in their nature.
They began as wanderers, and they are wanderers still. They have lingered long enough on the shores of the cosmic ocean.
They are ready at last to set sail for the stars.
Can the cosmos know itself? Every time we open our eyes, the first thing we see is light. Our perception of existence largely depends on the abilities of our eyes. From the beginning of human consciousness, we looked at the lights around us and asked questions. We have looked up at the same stars in much the same way that my ancestors did. The question is the same, and so simple—”where are we?”
On 1990 we placed a new eye to gaze into the sky. We named it upon Hubble. This sensitive eye let us see beyond the tiny sliver of visible light. Nineteen years later, we got another eye in the space to look for earth like planet around other stars. We searched every inch of the sky, looked at the farthest we could. Even the farthest corner was crowded with thousands of galaxies with billions of stars. We looked at strange objects and found thousands of planets in the sky.
Now we are aware of the vastness of the cosmos. Compared to that immensity, our spinning planet is a speck of dust. The iron in our blood, the calcium in our bones and teeth—all of it came from the supernova explosion. We are the remnants of stars. When we question the world around us—when we ponder the vastness—are we the cosmos questioning itself?