the universe is something of the marvellous, too big of an idea, too big of a marvel to fit between my fingertips or the ridge of my lip. too big for it all, and i am too. it’s all so enchanting and i feel like i’m living in this beautifully woven fabric, where everything intertwines at some point. and it’s like constantly watching milk spill into coffee: they delicately waltz around each other with awe, it’s so sensual you feel like you could drown in it all. so you just let yourself get carried away by the fluidity and loquaciousness that’s offered, and for you to take.
sometimes you’re floating, sometimes you’re sinking, and all you can do is exhale and look. to me, quiet things like watching and absorbing the feeling of your feet meeting the ground- heel and arch and toes and sole, all come crashing down onto this little earth like a wave, then languidly peeling off with nonchalant elegance, contains something of the magical. and the cycle continues, alongside the cycle of life and death and the weather. this transiency is beyond words, it’s floating beneath our nose and it rests in our back pockets or hidden alleys at 4am. it’s there, then it’s not there. isn’t it exquisite how the best moments last for only quicksilver seconds? don’t you realise how quicksilver slippery it all is? the clouds will forever change from faces of people you know, to strangers, to simply water vapour and your favourite pair of shoes will never remain completely white or black or brown. your eyes will change with time and aged love, and so will your embraces and kisses and the way your fingers fidget. Around you, everything else flows too; the breeze will always smell different and you will keep watering the flowers inside you, no matter what.
(and maybe one day you’ll stop confusing dusk from dawn.)