Kaleidoscope - Ray Bradbury

The planet hung there—a blue and green kaleidoscope turned slow. Clouds spiraled into ivory roses. Oceans glittered like fractured sapphire. Continents drifted beneath veils of gauze. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and it was the most terrible, because he would never touch it again.

One by one, they winked out. The radio became a jigsaw of static and goodbye. Until only Stone remained. kaleidoscope ray bradbury

“I see my son,” said another voice. Les. The youngest. His tether had snapped an hour ago, and now he was cartwheeling toward the sun. “He’s six. He’s building a rocket out of cardboard. I’m inside it. We’re laughing.” The planet hung there—a blue and green kaleidoscope

They fell, of course. Not down—but out . The hull had kissed the meteor swarm with a lover’s violence, and now the rocket was a bright bouquet of scrap, and the men were seeds scattered across an ink-black garden. Continents drifted beneath veils of gauze

Hollister tumbled alone, his suit’s radio a graveyard of whispers.