You may not believe in magic,
But don't you think it strange,
The amount of matter in our universe,
Has never slightly changed,
That all which makes your body,
Was once part of something more,
And every breath you ever breathe,
Has seen it all before,
There are countless scores of beauty,
In all the things that you despise,
It could once have been a shooting star,
That now makes up your thighs,
And atoms of forgotten life,
Who've long since ceased to roam,
May now have the great honour,
To call your crooked smile their home,
You may not believe in magic,
But I thought that you should know,
The makings of your heart were born,
Fourteen billion years ago,
So next time you feel lonely,
When this world makes you feel small,
Just remember that it's part of you,
And you're part of it all.
~e.h