Life & Wisdom Quote by Bradley Chicho

Cosmic debris becomes craft-store material in Bradley Chicho's image, and that clash is the point. "Bits and pieces flung into the universe" suggests a creation story without a creator: not elegant design, just scattershot force. The verb "flung" carries impatience, even accident. Whatever made this world didn't place; it threw.

Then the metaphor tilts hard into the tactile. Stars "sticking in the sky like cotton balls on a jet black velcro surface" swaps sublime astronomy for something you can press with a finger. Cotton balls are soft, cheap, domestic; Velcro is utilitarian, engineered, faintly ugly. The sky isn't an infinite mystery here; it's a surface, a backing board. That flattening is a quiet provocation: wonder is real, but so is the mind's need to make it manageable.

The subtext reads like a defense mechanism against awe. By reducing the heavens to household textures, the speaker gains control over scale and fear. It's also a comment on how we actually encounter the cosmos now: filtered through materials, metaphors, screens, school projects. "Jet black" is the only phrase that keeps the grandeur intact, a reminder of the void underneath the cute analogy.

Contextually, Chicho's lifelong dates (1895-present) feel almost mythic, like the poem itself is unmoored from history. That fits a line that treats the universe as collage: time, matter, and meaning assembled from scraps, stuck together well enough to look like a pattern.