the universe is not yours to keep. it does not tiptoe behind your slothish feet, praying for a taste of Achilles. it does not send stars cocooning in orbit around your hair, no moons among your smile to prove to you that you are celestial. the universe does not care.
perhaps it cares about some things. it cares about the inflection in your voice when you are on the verge of tears. it prays for their escape because it knows the revelations that come forth from it; vulnerability, release, empathy. it knows the soil you walk is composed of the dead ones before, and it watches, hoping you find the bones. it cares, for your beaten body is the physicality of knowledge, the study of connection. the universe will see you in your sorrow, and feel every bit of it with you. it will hold your heart in its vibrating hands and tie it to a string; let it sore like a kite among clouds, let it rise from ash to its neighbors in the sky.
the universe will not play a card game. it will not let you stomp on it and fellow faces. do not grasp for a crown to sit upon your head. do not laugh in the face of others. you are not free of your bile if you spit it upon another. the universe can see you translucently, see the undercarriage of a rotten soul. let it sweep you away and give a touch of warmth to your cold hands.
the universe is not yours to keep
but, it is yours to seek.
YOU ARE READING
yellow
Poetrymy bones are too big for my body and they protrude through my skin : let's talk about love, angst, fear, peace.
