how beautiful we all are. how beautiful this, whatever this is, is.

how we’re all composed of millions and millions of tissues made up of billions of cells and an infinite number of miniscule little particles we’ve never laid eyes on. how incredible it is that each of us was created through the combination of a labyrinth of tiny little codes strung together so precisely, codes that would give rise to thoughts and movements and sound. our irises alone contain more colours than we’ll ever be able to find words for. when we touch the skin of someone we love, little explosions go off in our core because the beauty, the closeness, is so unbearable. when we tune into sounds composed of intricately woven little notes, we are overwhelmed - by passion, by grief, by memory, by the ineffable. we speak to one another with combination after combination of sounds and frequencies, and through these words the perception of emotion, idea, shape is possible. we create and we build and design and explore, and yet even after thousands of years there is still too much creating, too much building, designing, and exploring to be done. and we love. oh, do we love.

and because all of this occurs on a little mote of dust illuminated by a dim little ball of gas in a vast expanse whose full stretch we can never wholly explore, we create our own universes. everything perpetual and new, nothing ever comes to a full stop. nothing can. we have all been set in motion, and it is the sort of motion characterized by lightness, the most ethereal sort of motion that exists. this is it.

11:38 pm  •  7 January 2010  •  59 notes

you remind me of hands, of dancing, of feeling wildly secure.

12:03 am  •  18 September 2009  •  5 notes

your eyes are not my glue,

nor your mouth, no, certainly

not your mouth,

nor any other part of your body

my pencil prefers to matte my paper

coating it with fragments, cringeworthy,

overworn,

fraught with grammatical error

just like the letter from the boy

who stopped writing last month

when I told him

my heart is blue and it pumps blood, etc.

having lost the last of your voice

I am unbounded now by sound. I swear

I do not

remember the first five words you told me

nor my response, boundless

or full of walls, (I don’t recall)

your irises

as they felt the warm blue sunlight

leap across their perfect buds

2:24 pm  •  15 September 2009

there is a design, i swear it. and it may not be in your blood or in your genetic makeup, but believe me, it exists. your body is acutely aware of the part of you that acts not out of necessity, but is instead propelled by some sweet cosmic motion. some people give it a name. they call it God. others will call it Allah, or divine creation, or a higher power. i call it love.

whatever it is, it pulls a postal worker mourning the loss of his wife out of bed and to his letters each morning; it drives an exhausted mother to work at dawn and back to her children again as the sun begins to set; it holds hands with a painter on a park bench. it is this design, simple yet intricately woven and thoroughly applied, that stirs within us and between us and through us and around us. it is this design that keeps us and holds us close and wraps us tightly and promises never to leave us, even when we leave ourselves. there is a design. this is true and it is the only thing that we can be certain of because it is the absolute fabric of our universe. emotion would not be emotion if it were purely chemical. bonds would be physical and we would not recognize beauty, would not experience or recall events with a deep sense of curiosity. there are things that we think we know, and there are things that none of us know. there are things that we’ve come to know and account differently, as physicists and atheists and musicians and philosophers. we’ve seen the stars, and if we haven’t seen them, we’ve reached up and felt them. there is a design.

1:33 pm  •  18 August 2009  •  27 notes