i find the chance that the universe is nothing
to be such a beautiful opening,
like our life is just some dream, and existence is just waiting, waiting
waiting to wake.
and what then?
would i become a star, to float among others in the sky,
or maybe just the earth?
a destiny to be the soil on which all that i've birthed
will walk and move and breathe,
feeding the same skeleton that i so desperately needed.
one breath, two. and more and more.