I was given a small body and a heart too big,
Too full of rough edges to place inside.
So I took to shaving bits off it.
I cut off the corners,
Smoothed out every scar.
But once I’d started, I couldn’t stop,
And then I realised
I had only created too much of empty space.
So I despaired over this accidental creation
Of silent rooms and dark corridors.
And something told me “Live, just live.”
And so each day,
I borrowed a part of this Universe
And placed it in those spaces.
You see, there have been two hundred centuries of humans,
Of music and art, great cities destroyed and built
Of beauty and darkness and celebrations
And a million inhales and exhales for every moment
And all of this moves and flows to converge to that second in time
That you reside in.
All of this is waiting
This is not the end. There is no vacuum.
There maybe whisky; There will be blood.
There is extraordinary hurt.
But there is extraordinary love.